


Second Chance Christmas

by Elexica



Series: Elexica does AU-gust 2020 [27]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: AU-gust 2020, Christmas Angst, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Romance, Domestic, Dysfunctional Family, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Back Together, Kidfic, M/M, No infidelity!, Post-Divorce, Reconciliation, Rekindling Relationship, back massages, ygocollablove
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:40:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27832405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elexica/pseuds/Elexica
Summary: The radio had droned on about an incoming polar vortex.  How could the weatherman have known that his ex-husband would be on the plane?- - -Following an acrimonious divorce, Joey and Kaiba have managed to co-parent the kids without seeing each other for three years.After Kaiba is caught in a blizzard, Joey is forced to spend the holiday with his ex-husband, and confront certain feelings that he thought were dead.
Relationships: Jounouchi Katsuya | Joey Wheeler/Kaiba Seto
Series: Elexica does AU-gust 2020 [27]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860052
Comments: 111
Kudos: 112





	1. {{ December 20 }}

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt is arranged marriage but I present to you—Unarranged Divorce. (Yes, this is technically still AU-Gust don't @ me)
> 
> Relevant facts: Kaiba and Joey were married and have two children – Alexis and Attius (from GX, but you do not need to see GX). This is a get-together-again fic. The divorce was not amicable, but no cheating/infidelity. They’re about 40 in the fic, in honor of them being 40 in 2020 if they were 15 in 1995. Joey is half-American, and his mom and Serenity live in New York, too. 
> 
> Otherwise, hope you enjoy the fic and happy yuletide to you and yours!

The sleet fell heavily against the car, turning the view through the windshield into an impressionist painting of abstract asphalt and splotchy red break lights. The drives to the private airport in Westchester were always the worst. Even though Kaiba rarely accompanied the kids on the flight from Japan, even the haunting proximity to the shiny private jets and the trappings of his ex put Joey on edge. Not because he longed to be driving the expensive cars parked in the lot or any other petty envy, but because the whole place always reeked of Kaiba’s ghost. How the man could haunt the freeways and tangled overpasses from thousands of miles away was yet another unsettling superpower of his ex-husband.

The sleet, the traffic, and the eerie nature of the drive allowed frustrated ruminations to wind their way into Joey’s head. Like the suction cups on the edges of an octopus’s tentacles, little doubts and regrets clung to his mind.

Was it petty to fly the kids back and forth from Japan in the dead of winter for only a week? Yes, of course it was. But the custody arrangement hadn’t even demanded that Joey allow that week. The kids were in school in New York, and it was _his_ year to spend Christmas with them. They spent the full summer break in Japan every year. It was Joey’s only time of year—and even then, only every other year—where they all could spend time off together. He didn’t want to give it up without a fight. And Joey was still a fighter.

When Mokuba had announced his wedding date for the first week of the kids’ Winter break, Joey was so tempted to force some other concession out of Kaiba. Joey had been invited as well, but the thought of attending turned his stomach something fierce. He could see it in his minds’ eye: watching his family, his children, and his closest friends, dressed to the nines, celebrating something so pure. And him, looking at the ruins of the most significant relationship of his life. It felt like a mockery, to stand there and watch Mokuba enter a beautiful marriage while he stewed in the wreckage of his own. Plus, Joey’s self-destructive streak was supposed to have died with his relationship.

So, what remained was that precious promise: every other winter break. And this one was his. Sure, his ex-husband was one of the greatest negotiators in the business world, but Joey had thrilled, just a little, and with more than a little guilt, at the thought of bringing him to his knees over this. The opening was his to take.

He hadn’t quite calculated all the way out—indeed, the long game was Seto’s specialty. And once Atticus had been informed that he would be both a performer at his uncle’s wedding reception, it was game over for Joey. 

Of course, that was _so_ Kaiba, ever on the offensive, always flipping the script. Stuck negotiating over Christmas and coming to this frustrating solution. He was a cruel rival and a bitter adversary. An altogether dreadful ex-husband.

Weaponizing Atticus’s precious enthusiasm was a perfect move. Which left Joey messing with the logistics and driving in this awful weather.

. . .

The radio had droned on about an incoming polar vortex. How could the weatherman have known that his ex-husband would be on the plane?

Joey hadn’t noticed him at first—he was too busy catching Atticus’s tackle hug, and patting Alexis gently on the head. All that warmth and love had blinded him to the frigid bastard standing at the other side of the gate.

But one his heart was full again, the primal part of Joey’s brain was triggered. Like he could sense the predator lurking, he looked up and saw those stupidly long limbs. He’d know that silhouette from a mile away. “What’re you doin’ here?” Joey shouted. It was so reflexive that he forgot to hide the vitriol from the kids.

Kaiba stalked over slowly, as if he was _trying_ to take too long, waste all of Joey’s time. “Waiting on my return flight plan,” Kaiba said. His voice had gotten more gravelly over the years, but his cadence remained almost robotic.

“Alexis was scared of flying home in the storm!” Atticus laughed, still embracing his father. “And she said the only way she’d fly back was if Oto-san promised he’d pilot! It was _so cool_ dad! Did you know he could fly planes?!”

Joey forced his mouth into a pinched smile. “I did know that. That was very nice of him.”

Kaiba looked at him. “The children anticipated being in New York for Christmas. I am still a man of my word.” Joey wondered if he was tired from the 14 hour flight—he certainly didn’t look any worse for wear. 

Frankly, he didn’t look much different than the last time he had seen him, three years before. He was still unfairly trim and perfectly composed. The only noticeable changes were the introduction of a few grey hairs, scattered among the deep brown and a pair of wire-frame glasses that looked like he’d always had them. His black turtleneck was as clean and tight fitting against the prominent muscles of his shoulders and chest as it had been. His dark jeans were still the same stupid level of tight that looked a little like he hadn’t realized he wasn’t a teenager anymore. Between the black Armani loafers and black Burberry trench, he looked like he was about to return to a casual Friday in the Financial District and get drinks at the most expensive bar he could find.

Joey had not anticipated seeing anyone other than his kids, and maybe Isono, and felt instantly exposed. Without the pressure of having to be Kaiba’s arm candy at events, Joey had put on a fair amount of weight, and settled into something of a dad-bod. He was wearing his comfiest jeans and a puffy winter coat. The worst part was the recognition in Kaiba’s eyes—it was the same coat he’d had when they were living together, only more faded and a little tattered at the edges and unzipped. It revealed a shirt that he’d acquired as a volunteer at a concert-fundraiser for Atticus’s youth orchestra. It was an unnecessarily bright green, mercifully faded by the washing machine. His white chunky sneakers looked just like ones he had in high school—and only a little less scuffed up. Overall, the look was one meant for a quick trip to the grocery store, and the last thing he’d wanted be wearing to see his ex-husband for the first time in years. Joey braced for some comment to that effect.

“Well, I’m glad they’re here. We should get going, after all—how many days are there until Christmas?” Joey asked Alexis. 

“Five!” She announced.

“Yep! And the tree isn’t even up yet!” Joey said, in mock shock, and smiled at the kids’ surprised faces. 

While Atticus was bemoaning how much crucial Christmas celebrating needed to be done in the next five days, a member of the airport staff approached Kaiba. Kaiba stepped away to discuss the flight plan, but Joey kept an ear out. It’s not eavesdropping if it’s your ex-husband, after all.

“Mr. Kaiba, this airport is being closed, effective immediately. The entire metropolitan area is bracing for a significant blizzard, and you are absolutely not cleared to fly.”

Joey couldn’t make out his husband’s harsh whispers, but relished in how they were tinged with a light panic. At least the bastard was freaking out a little. It felt nicer than he would ever admit to know that he made his terrifying ex-husband a little scared.

“Mr. Kaiba, we cannot permit that. I will personally be turning off all lights on the runway and not approving any plans that you submit. It could not possibly be worth dying to avoid spending a few days in New York.”

“That is not your determination to make!” Kaiba’s voice was slightly heated, which was another signal that Joey had gotten to him.

“I’m sorry sir. You are a valued customer, but it would be deadly for you to depart at this time, and I refuse to be a part of such a flight plan. As soon as I can permit take-off, I will personally contact you.”

With that terse statement, the administrator marched off.

Kaiba stared at the ground with a combination of fury and focus. After a few terse breaths, he whipped out his phone and began tapping away.

Joey was about to tell the kids to say _Goodbye Oto-san!_ But deep down, Joey had done the math too.

“Dad, is Oto-san going to be able to stay with us for Christmas?” Alexis said, looking up with pleading eyes. “Like we’re a family again?”

Alexis was smart as hell, and even at age six was a master of strategy. Someday, Joey thought, she’ll be devastatingly skilled at Duel Monsters. Today, she was inconveniently cunning.

“It depends on what arrangements he wants to make,” Joey deflected, hating that an offer slipped through the cracks.

Kaiba looked up from his phone. For a second, he did look a bit tired from the flight. From his life. It was humanizing, and Joey tried to discard it.

“I could stay in a hotel in Manhattan, and visit,” Kaiba proposed, grip on the phone like a vice.

“That’s not what families do…” Alexis whined. 

Kaiba’s jaw clenched. Joey was familiar with this face—Kaiba was acutely aware of his compromised position. It felt like they’d never finished the dreaded conversation. The energy that hung in the air was the same as that trite explanation of divorce.

It still was sickening when Atticus echoed the conversation from three years prior. “We’re still a family, Lexi. But Dad and Oto-san can’t stay in the same house anymore because it isn’t—”

It was too much, and Joey couldn’t help himself, “Of course your Oto-san can spend Christmas at the house. If that’s what he wants.”

“If I’m cleared to fly back to Domino sooner, of course I should return to work,” Kaiba answered the unspoken question, and trailed the group back to the car. Atticus was already sharing stories of how well his performance at the wedding had gone.

. . .

The house was a nice house—large enough, with a pretty backyard and a pool in a good neighborhood. It had more expansive grounds when they had been together, but the family didn’t even use the stables or tennis courts, and Joey had sold them off to people who would actually enjoy them. Kaiba had forced his hand when it came to the mortgage and upkeep, but other than the house and the kids’ schooling expenses, Joey had refused any formal alimony. 

At the time, Joey had thought it was a brilliant plan. If Kaiba really wanted to value his work over all else, then he would have to suffer through watching all of that effort not change a damn thing for his family. Joey refused to be truly dependent, fifteen years of the golden handcuffs had been more than enough.

Now it was a little embarrassing that the house hadn’t changed a bit more. Since Kaiba had been gone, more of the children’s artwork graced the ornate walls. No interior decorators had been hired, so any new pieces of furniture clashed with the pre-existing scheme. It looked more lived-in, and Joey tried to take some pride in that.

Kaiba was examining a particularly poor crayon representation of the Red Eyes Black Dragon. The scale was completely off: the face was much too big and the eyes bulged grotesquely.

“Don’t say anything mean,” Joey whispered harshly at Kaiba. He was shocked when Kaiba obeyed him. “Now, who wants hot chocolate?” Joey offered, and the kids practically cheered. Atticus was en route to the kitchen already. “Seto, could you start a fire in the living room?”

Kaiba nodded, turning towards the room from perfect memory.

The milk was quickly heated, and the cocoa mix dissolved like magic, swirling into a pleasant warm desert within minutes. Joey had wondered if Kaiba would come into the kitchen to join the family, but he remained in the living room. The kids ran off to the playroom to mess with whatever new game Yugi had sent them home with.

In the soft lighting of the warm fire, Kaiba looked frustratingly, devastatingly, untouched by time. In brighter lights the fine webbing under his eyes and frustrated crease between his brows brought attention to forty years of an overburdened life. 

But instead the fire burned away the years. With his glasses stowed away, he looked like the exact same man who he had fought with in the same damn seats three years ago. Hell, he looked like the same man he’d dueled on the beach of Duelist Kingdom island.

“How much do you want?” Kaiba had asked in that god-awful conversation. Kaiba spoke coldly, as if it wasn’t his husband standing before him but an uppity secretary demanding a raise.

Joey had the messy manilla folder out. The old prenup looked fresh other than the creased corner, the bends around the staple proving that someone had read it.

Without a word, he handed it over to his husband. Kaiba skimmed it, eyes quick and calculating. Then he tossed it in the fire.

“You’ve always been a terrible negotiator,” Kaiba said, pouring a bit more whiskey in the glass on the coffee table. The liquor was erasing the bored look in his eye. For the first time in a long time, Kaiba’s glare looked a little unhinged to Joey. Like he was as a teenager—barely suppressing his manic energy. Kaiba took a long, slow sip of his drink before returning to the conversation. “I’m not trying to hold out on the _father of my children_.”

“Say what you want, and it’s yours.” Kaiba’s words sounded completely empty of passion, drive. Everything that Joey had fallen in love with.

The combination of venom and possession in those words made Joey’s blood boil. How _impersonal_ , as if there was no other important relationship there. Nothing else that he could recognize. Just the _father of my children_ , like a job title. And wasn’t that just _like_ Kaiba? Generosity as the ultimate weapon. Proving he cared so little for the entire situation by abdicating any role. Take whatever you want—none of it matters anyway.

With the paperwork in flames, Joey’s lawyer would have told him that he was entitled to half of everything his husband owned, including those valuable shares of Kaiba Corp. If Joey had been thinking cruelly and carefully, he might have realized then what he only contemplated years later: that he had been the only person who could have taken Kaiba Corporation away from Seto Kaiba without a fight. Those shares and the right collaborator… Joey could have taken the whole thing in a matter of months. Ousted Kaiba, put his ex of the street. Reminded Kaiba what that felt like.

But of course, Kaiba had played three steps ahead, and even his evaluation of Joey’s demands was insightful. He had correctly assumed that Joey wanted nothing to do with the company.

“I don’t want any money. I don’t need it. I can figure something out on my own. I don’t need you for that,” Joey said. Honda had been pissed at him about it when Joey had called the next morning to tell him that terrible bargaining position. Honda supported any way to make sure that Kaiba got the fullest “Fuck You” that Joey could manage, but he was floored that Joey wanted to have to work, and budget, and live like he hadn’t spent the last fifteen years of his life in a world where money was ethereal, unimportant. So plentiful that it had lost absolutely all value and meaning. 

Kaiba laughed villainously into the whiskey, campfire scent bubbling up. “Keep the house. Our children shouldn’t have to move. This is more instability than they deserve anyway.”

Joey didn’t push the issue. The instability stung, and the fact that he repeated his parent’s pattern of getting divorced with young children was absolutely searing on his heart. Instead of mourning, he let the bitterness curdle. And Joey couldn’t help remarking, “I’d be surprised if they noticed a difference.”

Kaiba said nothing, kept his face schooled in that icy way that sickened the blond. But it was imperfect to the skilled observer, and his eyes heated up, eyelids becoming just a little wider.

“They should continue to attend their current schools, this cannot interfere with their education,” Kaiba droned, as if it was just another term of a perfectly standard consumer contract. “And they should spend the summer in Domino. We can switch off for the winter holidays.”

Part of Joey was waiting for Kaiba to suggest that they split the kids up. A perfect 50/50 of the children. It was the worst thing that Joey could think to do, really. Shove in Joey’s face that he had made the same mistakes as his parents, had learned _nothing_. Demonstrate, viscerally, that Joey was going to dissolve their marriage and hurt his kids in the same way that he had been hurt.

But it never came. In the moment Joey felt so defensive. So certain that Kaiba would exploit every vulnerability—that was the man he knew. Ruthless in every sense.

In the years that passed, Joey realized that he wouldn’t have married someone so evil that he’d do that. That Kaiba’s own pain should have been enough to guarantee he had no interest in splitting the siblings. But in the battleground that their living room had become, Joey couldn’t trust anything. 

“Fine. But otherwise, I don’t want to see a cent of your goddamn money.”

This line, which Joey had considered so fucking crystal clear became the core of their most prominent post-break-up arguments. 

Joey had always been a crowd favorite at the kids’ daycare, and his transition to part-time employee was seamless. A quick mention of the divorce was all that it took to silence any lingering questions. He was good with kids, warm and patient, and he wasn’t far from his own. The job paid enough, the hours weren’t demanding.

After Kaiba had returned to Domino City full time, the economics of the problem became apparent.

Simply put, the mansion upkeep was entirely unreasonable on Joey’s salary. Everyone was aware of this, especially Joey. He was planning on letting the gardens narrow to a level that he could manage on the weekends, drop the security teams, just let everything mellow out. The household manager was fired on day one. The maids on day two. The house was never as spotless, but the traces of dust and dirt were a small price to pay for the lived-in feel that grew.

But the bills never arrived. No emails, no letters, clearly they were rerouted. Gardeners that Joey had fired showed up Monday, as if they hadn’t gotten the news. No house staff returned without a request, and Joey really was going to let it slide.

But the next month Joey received a notice that the utilities had been overpaid. Not by a terribly extravagant amount, but by about a thousand dollars. Joey knew better, but he resisted looking the gift horse in the mouth for just one month and accept the refund.

The next month, the refund doubled, and Joey wasn’t going to take it. When Kaiba answered the phone, Joey didn’t even give him the opportunity to pick a greeting.

“I told you, I don’t want the money. I’m gonna send it back to you, what’s the address again?” Joey demanded.

“Put it in the children’s trusts. Put it towards—” Kaiba’s answer was harsh and quick.

“I don’t want the money, Kaiba. I don’t need it. They don’t need it. We’re fine without it.” Without _you_ , Joey almost shouted. But Kaiba was smart enough, right? He should be able to understand that much.

“Fine.” Kaiba hung up first to spite Joey’s victory, but the refunds on the utilities stopped. Over the last few years there were a couple more schemes. Refunds from the school. Overpaid property taxes. Every time Joey whined to Honda, his friend told him to give up and just take it.

But Yugi had a different guess. Yugi pointed out that, well, every time Kaiba came up with a new way to slip money to Joey, Joey called to clear it up. 

“I don’t know how many people he talks to, Jounouchi-kun, but maybe… he just wants to call.”

What an entirely too human thing for Joey’s ex-husband to do. “He has my number, if he wants to talk, he can try, instead of buying it.”

Yugi had shrugged and wisely changed the subject. The whole thing left an odd taste in Joey’s mouth. Even though Joey was the one who had asked for the divorce, Kaiba had done his utmost to seem entirely unaffected by the whole thing. Joey had been prepared for a knock down, drag out fight. Instead, Kaiba kept such an impartial face, it was as if the dissolution of their union didn’t perturb him in the slightest. As if it were some sort of contract terminated at inconvenient time, and no more.

Mind returning to the present, Joey scanned Kaiba’s face in the glow of the fire for any sign of humanity. Any indication that their separation had bothered Kaiba just a fraction of the way it had hurt Joey.

Finding none, Joey handed off the warm mug of hot cocoa. If Kaiba realized it wasn’t coffee, it didn’t show on his face.

“So, anyone miss me at the wedding?”

Kaiba gulped down some “Your friends were there, of course. I think they would have preferred to see you than me.” Kaiba took another pensive sip at the cocoa mug. “Atticus was right. His piano performance was excellent.”

Kaiba pulled out his phone. The screensaver of a Blue Eyes White Dragon melted into a sea of icons. KC must have released a new model in the intervening years. Joey took a bit of joy in the fact that he hadn’t even noticed.

The screen dissolved into Kaiba’s photo album within a few taps. The grid was full of almost identical images of their kids at the wedding, and Kaiba had to scroll for a bit before tracking down a video. It pricked at Joey’s chest, just a touch, to see how many duplicate photos Kaiba had taken of the little subjects.

Finally, Kaiba pressed play and there was nine-year-old Atticus, fluffy brown hair tamed in the back just barely in a tiny low ponytail. Between the hair and his light blue suit, he looked like a baby Mozart, Joey thought.

The image of him at the white grand piano began to move, and the boy played some classical music that Joey couldn’t identify if his life depended on it. It sounded pleasant, the notes flowing and smooth—clearly the little guy had been taking his lessons seriously.

“He is good, huh?” Joey smiled, looking at Kaiba. The radiant satisfaction in Kaiba’s eyes hurt to look at for too long. 

Kaiba handed him the phone and stood up. “I’ll check on them. They’ve been quiet for too long, I don’t trust it.” Kaiba rose with his usual dignity. Even without the trench coat, the man swept out of the room with such presence. For better or worse, Joey’s house had lost the melodrama without him marching about.

His ex-husband’s phone sat heavy in his hands. The new release was slim, all flawless and shiny and new. It was a little hot. And it was unlocked. He could search through anything—did Kaiba really still trust him that much?

Joey smirked, and continued to look through the wedding pictures. The rest of the reception looked very precious. There were many attempts to capture a decent shot of Mokuba and his new wife Yui smiling with the kids. From the number of goofy pictures and the relative paucity of serious ones, it had been an uphill battle for Kaiba to get one decent picture that he could put on his desk.

The next series appeared to be taken by Atticus, a legendary phone thief, and was largely shots of Kaiba’s arms and hands grasping for his phone. Joey’s own phone had more than enough pictures like that, and sometimes he couldn’t bring himself to delete them either.

There were a couple of cute shots of Alexis challenging Yugi to a duel. She could read the majority of the cards. Joey didn’t know how she convinced Kaiba to let her bring her duel disk to the wedding, but he was always a sucker for the kids.

There were some pictures what were just Kaiba and Mokuba, and Joey couldn’t help but gaze at his ex-husband. Standing next to his brother with that small smile that looked so hauntingly like the photo in Mokuba’s locket.

They weren’t teenagers, but the pang in Joey’s chest was not convinced. 

The next few photos hurt even more, just Kaiba and the kids. Alexis, duel disk still strapped faithfully to her arm, appeared to have requested to be held, and Atticus stood in front making little peace signs and sticking his tongue out. 

Kaiba was smiling that tiny, genuine way—still. Through rows of photos, he didn’t stop, except for a few when Atticus jumped to try and steal his sister’s duel disk. 

Joey’s eyes pricked with tears, and all of that curiosity was silenced. He had meant to do some snooping—follow up on some headlines about a secret lover that Honda had sent him—but any curiosity was stamped out. 

Joey decided it was because he was sad to miss their friends, not their life together. And that everyone had been playing quietly for too long. He abandoned the phone on the couch to see what had happened in the playroom.

The playroom was a nice, cute space. Light blue walls, big windows facing the gardens, plush tan carpeting. Back when they had maids, the room was always tidy, but now Joey had given up. It was for the kids to play in, anyway, so if the train set and crayons and common Duel Monsters cards littered the floor, who really cared. Against the wall, there was a fairly large grey couch that had seen better days.

It was almost too much, to see Kaiba, passed out with a book in his lap, and the kids on either side snoring away. Alexis’ hair dripped over the side of the couch. Atticus was leaning against his father. Joey leaned over to collect Alexis first to take her to her bedroom.

The soft vision was hard to face, and Joey couldn’t resist the simple thought that “this is what I wanted.”

At the movement, Kaiba stirred.

Joey resisted smiling at the spacey, sleepy face. Kaiba blinked tiredly, slowly collecting himself and gathering his bearings. It took quite a lot of effort. “I’m putting them to bed,” Joey said. Kaiba nodded and ruffled Atticus’s hair. 

By the time Atticus had been dropped off at his room, Kaiba was missing. But Joey had a decent guess where to find him.

. . .

“So, who’s the secret lover?” Joey asked, wandering into the room that had once been Seto’s study. Joey hadn’t changed anything about it. He hadn’t even removed the decanter of expensive Japanese whiskey or the two crystal glasses that sat next to it. To be honest, he hadn’t spent time in the room at all, except occasionally dusting when he remembered. After the kids were asleep, it was Seto’s usual haunt back in the day. Seto was nothing if not a man of certain preferences.

The decanter was already wide open, and Seto was making significant progress in draining it. He looked quite at home for a man who had been threatening to stay in a hotel. His cheeks were just a little flushed and Joey could tell the liquor was affecting him because Seto _laughed_ at Joey’s comment.

“Please. You don’t have some sort of web alert on my name, do you?” Kaiba said, raising his glass like there was something to celebrate.

“Nah. But Honda does,” Joey answered, and was rewarded with another one of Kaiba’s signature cackles. It was close enough to friendly that Joey decided to take the companion chair in the study. Joey hadn’t sat in that chair even once in the three years since Kaiba’s departure. Leaning into the plush velvet, he realized he had missed it.

“Of course. There is no one, naturally, just that endless speculation. A man continues to take care of his appearance and he can never do it for his professional image and personal health,” Kaiba pulled his phone from his pocket, scrolling absently. “It must be for a lover.” The echo of blue light from the phone contrasted the warm yellow light from the study’s art-nouveau inspired banker’s lamps. It traced Kaiba’s high cheekbones in a flattering manner. It made Joey instantly more insecure about his own softer face.

Between the baggy sweatpants and charitable flannel bathrobe, he felt like no one would accuse him of taking up a new lover. If anything, he had spotted a few unflattering headlines in the last couple of years. The attention died off dramatically after Kaiba was all the way out of the picture. “Well, I’m sure you’re not worried about me finding anyone else. Don’t think anyone’s interested these days, I kinda let myself go.”

Kaiba’s eyes snapped away from his phone and back to Joey with a fierceness that Joey hadn’t expected. “First of all, I do not tolerate _anyone_ talking about the father of my children that way,” Kaiba spat, the liquor making him slur the edges of some of the words. “And second,” Kaiba huffed a short breath, “you really have no idea what’s going on in my head.”

“Y’know what, Kaiba,” Joey challenged, “I really fucking don’t.”

Kaiba downed the rest of the drink. “I was thinking that you look just as attractive as the day I met you,” and Joey could spot that hunger in his eyes, seductive as ever. “Your hair is still always tousled, like you’ve been playing outside all the time.” 

Kaiba returned his full attention to the decanter. “And I can’t look in your eyes without my heart absolutely aching,” Kaiba said as he refilled his glass. He sounded a bit angry to deliver the compliment.

The heat rose in Joey’s cheeks with the compliments. Joey released a sad little laugh before commenting. “Why do you gotta hold back on stuff like that ‘cept when you’re drinkin’ or whatever?”

Kaiba didn’t answer. He put his drink down and leaned in, so close that the heat of his breath tickled Joey’s cheek. Kaiba’s hand floated up to Joey’s face, the pad of his thumb running tenderly over the stubble on his jawline. Those haunted blue eyes saw straight into Joey’s soul.

“Even though you have done nothing but break my heart for the last four years, you are just as irresistible as ever,” Kaiba whispered, before pulling Joey in. There was no force behind the touch, as if he didn’t quite believe he was allowed to.

Maybe, Joey thought, if he hadn’t had such a dry spell, if he wasn’t so intoxicated by Kaiba’s praise and presence, then Kaiba wouldn’t have been allowed to. But the combination of loneliness, yearning, and unspoken regret was too heady. Always, Kaiba had to be too powerful.

And the kiss could have been their first kiss. It could have been the kiss that sealed their marriage at their wedding. It could have been the kiss after Joey first saw Kaiba hold Atticus. The kiss after they brought Alexis home from the hospital. It was tender and warm and peaceful. It was so right it felt like nothing had every happened to them, between them. 

It was soft, and chaste. And too loving.

After Kaiba released, he must have noticed the tears that had leaked involuntarily from Joey’s eyes. The next kiss was not nearly so pure. 

For one thing, Kaiba couldn’t seem to resist sticking his hands in Joey’s hair and pulling him in. If that first kiss was asking for permission, the second was to put Joey on notice that he was going to be devoured whole. It was hot and the lingering whisky all but burned Joey’s mouth. The campfire smell was almost too much—a warning that this was a bad idea. That they were both vulnerable and volatile and misguided.

But that hot mouth once again overpowered good sense. It always did, after all. And Joey only broke the make out in order to rise from his seat and straddle Kaiba’s hips in the opulent chair. It was clumsier than the last time they had done this, and Joey felt a bit insecure and out of shape, too much on display. But before the could undo his bold move, Kaiba grabbed him by the hips, long fingers artfully playing with the band of his sweatpants, dancing under his shirt and to his back. Kaiba smoothly scraped his nails down the soft flesh. Kaiba’s efforts were rewarded with a full body shudder, and he smirked back, as if to say “I’ve still got it.”

Joey moved in for another kiss, just to get that stupid, self-satisfied smirk off of his face. He was interrupted by his own moan at the sweet sensation of Kaiba grabbing and kneading at his ass. It was sexy as hell, and he felt so wanted. Like Kaiba was drinking in every second of his time with him. Like the last four years had faded away—or maybe never happened. 

Joey knew enough signature moves to reduce his partner to a quivering mess. He decided to run his own nails over Kaiba’s scalp and was instantly pleased when Kaiba purred into his mouth. Putty in his hands.

As they proceeded, Kaiba continued to make desperate, needy noises. After his shifted his hips up and whimpered, Joey determined that something was up. 

Well, something _else._

After he pulled back and rose shakily to his own feet, he offered a hand to his partner.

Kaiba stumbled. He caught himself, but only by relying on Joey’s stability. He looked a little dizzy just to be standing.

“Goddammit. You’re really drunk Kaiba. And you probably didn’t even take breaks or shifts on the flight over, so you’re exhausted too,” Joey sighed.

Joey should have caught on faster, should have known better. 

“This is so totally you, so fucking classic. You haven’t changed. This is why I fucking left, and never looked back. You’re exhausted and want to pull something and just… I really just get the dregs of you. Like you give your all to every single thing on earth, anything, so that you’re a mess by the time that you get to me. I’m the last priority every damn time, below even your desire to fuck off.”

“Jou…” Kaiba said his name on the exhale, and it evaporated in the room.

“You haven’t changed a bit in _three_ years. I’m wasting my breath, you’re too much of a mess to even appreciate this. But I’ll tell you I feel like you bought me, and our relationship comes last. I’m your child-rearing assistant, the head nanny, and you don’t even have to try to be my partner.” Joey could feel his face going read with anger. “I get the worst of you, every time.”

Kaiba was silent. One of the most frustrating things about Seto was that no matter what he was going through, the processing power of his mind was rarely genuinely diminished. 

“I am a good father.” Kaiba said, more to himself than to Joey.

“Yeah, but you’re a shit husband.”

Joey regretted it the second he said it. Hearing it out of his mouth felt unpleasant, like he was possessed by someone else. Someone a lot crueler, more dismissive.

Kaiba had no comment, no stinging rejoinder. He leaned onto Joey’s shoulder, long brown strands falling against the flannel bathrobe.

“C’mon, you can sleep in the guestroom.” Joey’s arm wound around Kaiba’s waist as he dragged him through the hallway.


	2. {{ December 21 }}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas tree shopping, ornament making, and decorating reveal some unresolved feelings...

The door slammed open, clattering against the wall harshly. Kaiba blinked in the bright light from the hallway, headache blooming at his forehead.

“Atticus wants you to come shopping for a Christmas tree.” Joey announced, slamming a thermos of coffee and a small bottle of Tylenol on the side table. The clattering noise was calibrated to exacerbate Kaiba’s hangover, and from the way his eyes squeezed shut, it worked. “You left some stuff, I stuck it in the guest room closet, so help yourself.”

Joey tried to lower his voice as deeply as possible, make it sound as truly menacing as he could, but the follow up sentence, “Waffles are ready,” just didn’t sound very scary.

For his part, Kaiba just rubbed at his eyes.

When Kaiba rolled into the kitchen forty-five minutes later, he looked completely put together. The picture of a man who could compartmentalize absolutely everything that had ever happened to him.

As he wandered toward the plate of waffles, Joey could feel the ghost of years past. Of Seto wandering over, pecking a kiss to his cheek on his way to the coffee machine.

Instead he watched his ex-husband greet the kids and collect the plate set out for him at the counter. Just the waffle and a bit of butter—no syrup, nothing sweet. Kaiba sliced into the waffle surgically, and swallowed a small bite of it. From the look on his face, he was too hungover and sick to really eat.

“Tell your Oto-san to eat his breakfast,” Joey said, pouring a glass of orange juice on the corner of the counter.

Kaiba sent Joey a death glare as Atticus announced that he had _just the song_. As Atticus launched into the highly repetitive “Breakfast Song”—an independent composition—Kaiba winced as if he had taken a thousand life points of damage in a shadow game.

The thermos of coffee stayed in Kaiba’s hand as he wove through the driveway. One of his cars had been left at the house—a black Mercedes that he had no real attachment to. Kaiba must have tracked down the spare key from the hooks on the wall of the garage. Kaiba was looking back towards the garage, as if he had a say in the matter.

Joey honked the horn of the minivan, startling his ex-husband and drawing another full body flinch from the man.

“I’m not movin’ Alexis’ car seat! Get in.” Joey shouted out the window. Kaiba revived his glare, only to lose it to a frustrated wince as Joey slammed on the horn again.

Kaiba froze, coffee “I swear,” Kaiba said, his voice menacing. “She’s six, she doesn’t need a car seat.”

“Look, it’s a height thing now. Ya can’t fire me, Kaiba, so unless ya got other plans, get in the car.” He punctuated this demand with another ear-scorching honk.

Grasping at the last threads of his dignity, Kaiba straightened his back, schooled his face with as much focus as he could bear, and strode over to the minivan door.

Kaiba flung it open with a theatrical flair that would be more appropriate on a blimp than a minivan.

Joey opened his mouth to deliver an admittedly tepid comment—he was thinking “look who decided to join us”—but he was silenced by the kids cheering when Kaiba sat down in the car.

“Oto-san, can we listen to the Chipmunks Christmas?!” Atticus pleaded from the backseat. 

Joey didn’t bother holding back laughter and Kaiba clenched his jaw and nodded.

. . .

The adventure at the Christmas Tree farm started relatively smooth and uneventful. Atticus and Alexis were good kids, even if Atticus could be a little loud and demanded a lot of attention, and Alexis was a bit shy. 

For his part, Kaiba did an excellent job of standing and observing the process. With stoicism, he posed at the back of the family and watched as Joey picked a tree, earned the approval of the kids, and tried to chop it down with the farm-provided axe on his own. 

Tree chopping was harder than anticipated, and Joey’s struggles were equal parts frustrating and humiliating.

Kaiba couldn’t hold back a snicker, about 15 minutes into Joey’s battle with the tree. But that was his miscalculation: the perfect opening for Joey to shoot back, “You think yer so strong, pretty boy? Give it a go.” And Joey all but tossed the axe in his ex’s direction. Joey could have used a better, safer and more careful form when he handed his ex-husband the axe, but he was trying to catch his breath, and the haughty bastard had goaded him with that laugh. Kaiba caught it easily anyway.

“Step back,” Seto announced, as if he was about to perform a magic trick. The rest of the family formed a slightly more distant semi-circle.

Kaiba posed, axe high behind his back. He made brief eye-contact with Joey before hefting a massive swing. The arc was long and graceful, and bit into the tree-bark savagely. It took Joey’s four-inch indent and turned it into eight-inches, fully three-quarters of the way through the tree.

Kaiba smiled, pleased with his work.

“Alright,” Joey offered after a few seconds. “Now, you pull it out.” Joey resisted making any further innuendoes in front of the kids.

Kaiba nodded and reached for the axe. It didn’t budge. He adjusted his feet in the snow to gain more purchase—to no avail. He lodged one foot against the tree, and still the leverage was insufficient. It was as if the tree had accepted the axe as a new branch, and wouldn’t let go.

Kaiba pulled out his phone and started tapping.

“You lookin’ up how to get an axe out of a tree?” Joey challenged.

“No.”

“Oh my god are you trying to buy a better axe? And have it air dropped or something?”

Kaiba’s clever, snarky glance up from his phone told Joey exactly everything he didn’t need to know. “Would the children have any interest in owning a Christmas tree farm?”

“No!” Joey jumped over, moving to try and steal back Kaiba’s phone before he could pull whatever insane business move required to buy out the family-owned farm.

Kaiba had been a capable “keep-away” player for decades, and hadn’t seemed to allow his skills to get rusty in the intervening period. 

Joey still had some signature moves—and certainly could have brought the taller man to his knees if he had a yo-yo on him. 

As it stood, the side tackle that Joey settled on was perfectly effective. They rolled in the snow a bit, Kaiba able to twirl and pass the phone between his hands deftly and Joey ready to brute force the situation. He had no qualms with getting snow in his ex-husband’s hair or up his nose.

What was surprising was when Kaiba stopped fighting. He had been pinned down pretty well, back digging into snow, wrists held by Joey’s determined fingers as if handcuffed over his head, flakes stuck to his eyelashes and drenching his scarf. Joey had one knee jamming Kaiba’s thighs into the ground.

Joey paused with those hands in his vice grip, feeling Kaiba’s muscles relax under his hands. The palms were facing him, and they were empty. The only metal that Joey could see was the one thing he had longed to forget—Kaiba was still wearing his wedding ring.

“Is that?” Joey asked softly.

Kaiba had been baring a smug smile at Joey, confident in his plan to abscond with the phone—even in the compromised position. That smile vanished at Joey’s question.

“I didn’t want to field any questions as to whether we were… I wanted it to be clear that we’re both their dads.” Kaiba should have blushed, but he didn’t. Instead he looked wild and scared, like he had been caught in a terrible lie.

Joey drew a slow breath, processing the information as the ice melted on Kaiba’s face.

“Oto-san! I got the phone!” Atticus cheered, waving the slim black device in the air, instantly breaking the tension.

“Excellent execution,” Kaiba said, moving one powerful thigh to dislodge Joey’s entire hold. He went tumbling back into the snow, and Kaiba stood up and straightened himself. He held out his hand expectantly, and Atticus handed him the phone.

“How attached are you to this specific tree?” Kaiba asked Alexis, with the same intensity he would levy a question at a board meeting.

With the same seriousness that Kaiba had summoned, Alexis responded ,“I have no attachment to this tree.”

“Atticus?”

The boy shrugged. Kaiba nodded. “Then we will acquire another tree by alternative means.” Kaiba tapped at the screen a few times. “Any objections?”

This question was directed at Joey who also shrugged. Joey eyed the axe, buried deep in the trunk of the tree. It was not promising.

“What’s next on the holiday itinerary?” Kaiba asked, as if he was going to complete the Christmas activity list with the same ruthless efficiency he took to the business world.

“Decorating ornaments.”

. . .

It’s not just that it was fun to watch Kaiba struggle with things—though Joey thought it usually was—but his ex-husband, eyes narrowed in concentration, brows strung in frustration, long fingers dripping golden glitter glue…

Joey could have laughed the entire time.

Atticus had nicely decorated a music note. He had diligently written the year and his name and his age on the thin piece of wood, and then doodled colorful lines around it. Alexis had decorated a ballet slipper with surprisingly delicate shading and the same information.

Joey was relatively pleased with his own decoration: a nicely colored-in icon of the Time Wizard, with the same information. He had hesitated to put his age, but it was tradition, and Alexis would surely bust him for breaking the rules.

But Kaiba had to be ambitious. Usually his abilities could keep up with his formidable plans. But this year’s image of the Thousand Dragon had not gone according to plan. He had foolishly done the Blue Eyes White Dragon for the first year, and burned through it’s permutations by the time they finalized the divorce.

The underlying coloring wasn’t terrible—and the silhouette of a dragon was distinct enough that he couldn’t quite make it unrecognizable. But the glitter glue gambit hadn’t paid off. Instead of an extra level of pizazz, the glue had chemically interacted with the ink of the pens underneath.

Like a craft drawer Icarus that had flown too close to the sun, the careful coloring underneath melted into an absolute mess, blurring the relevant information, as well as the face of the dragon. The whole work turned into a muddled, blotchy, glittering thing. Yellows and marigolds combining to look more like a splotchy watercolor, but it lacked intention or grace.

Joey’s smile was wide and his jaw was clenched from the effort of not laughing at Kaiba’s very sad ornament. “You can go back to the craft store and get a new blank one,” Joey managed to eek out, with only minimal giggles spilling into his speech.

“It’s…” Kaiba pushed at the glue with a sticky fingertip, as if he could reset the colors by sheer force of will. “I will… write the information the back.” Kaiba flipped the ugly ornament directly on the disposable plastic table cover, glitter glue oozing out. He wrote his name in Japanese characters, and the date. 

“It doesn’t look like a dragon, Oto-san,” Atticus protested. “You have to try again!”

Kaiba nodded, and affixed two googly eyes to the head.

Joey completely lost it at the plain wooden outline of a dragon, wings stretched, blank except for the name, date, and age on it’s belly, glitter glue leaking from under it, as if wounded, and two plastic google eyes quivering as the table shook with his laughter.

Joey thought he spotted a soft smile on Kaiba’s face, but by the time he caught his breath again, it was gone.

. . .

Joey tried to push down the warmth in his chest that swelled when he saw Kaiba wrapped around the tree, diligently stringing holiday lights. True to his word, he had an assistant from Kaiba Corp. USA’s New York branch sent out on an emergency hunt for the perfect tree. Without much thought, by the time the family had made it home from the Upstate adventure and trip to the craft store, a tree was already staged in their house—perfectly conical and even. As flawless as plastic, but full of that distinct pine scent.

Putting lights on the tree had been an intuitively “Kaiba” sort of activity. He was taller, more electrically inclined, and better suited to the less nostalgic Christmas elements. Although Joey had handled the task just fine, Kaiba’s persnickety nature did contribute to him spreading the lights evenly and nicely. It was sort of frustrating for Joey to see the lights look so smooth and flawlessly distributed. Especially when two years ago they had looked so uneven.

The off-year, when Kaiba had the kids for the winter holiday, Joey hadn’t bothered with any of his own decorations. He had just visited his sister’s place, skyped with the kids, and moped. He’d fallen asleep watching “Elf” alone on the couch. It ranked high on his list of worst Christmases ever. 

Joey wondered a little, while Seto fought with the fragrant pine-needle branches, whether this would top the list of worst holidays. Somehow, already, it didn’t feel like a bad holiday at all.

Joey held out a warm mug to Seto, once his task was finished. It was one of the older ones, white with that navy-blue KC logo imprinted, but faded over the years. 

Kaiba raised his hand to reject the offering. “I’m avoiding processed sugars. Last night was an exception, not the rule.”

Joey rolled his eyes. “Trust me, if you’re going to sit through any of tonight’s concert, you’ll appreciate the… heh… innovation.”

With a skeptical look at the hot chocolate and half-melted marshmallows, Kaiba reluctantly accepted the mug. He took a slow sip, before his eyebrows raised, recognizing the heroic volume of Baileys that had been surreptitiously mixed in. Kaiba nodded in approval. “I stand corrected.” 

Indeed, the adulterated cocoa was fully drained over the course of Atticus’s hour long performance of every Christmas song he knew, plus a few piano remixes of various children’s show theme songs, and an original composition which was actually just smashing on the keys and smiling.

Kaiba remained steadfastly bound to the couch while Joey and Alexis actually placed all of the ornaments, whispering about what should go where. A few times, Joey looked over, just to see if Kaiba had left. Instead, he stayed, eyes darkened by some unknowable emotion. When the concert was over, and Joey and Alexis’s task was finally complete, the three stepped back to turn off the overhead lights and bask in the eclectic glory of the tree.

Only then had Kaiba vanished.

. . .

Joey wandered into Kaiba’s study. After the last night’s stunt, he expected to see the decanter open on the coffee table. 

Instead, Kaiba was illuminated by his laptop, the rhythm of his typing on the keyboard sounding just a little like music. “What do you want?” Kaiba asked, not looking up from his computer.

“I—” Joey shrugged, flopping down on the chair opposite Kaiba. “I want to talk, I guess.” 

“About what?” Kaiba asked, though it didn’t quite come out like a question. There was not a hint of curiosity in his voice.

“Us.” Joey looked over at Kaiba. “You’re wearing the ring, Kaiba.” Kaiba looked down at his own hand, as if he had forgotten that he’d put it on and failed to take it off.

“Yeah. And we were outside: there’s no blizzard anymore, Kaiba. It blew over last night. I’m no meteorologist, but you’re definitely cleared to fly.” Joey placed his hands on his hips, pleased with his own argument.

“The ring was unrelated,” Kaiba said, emotionless, glued to the computer screen. Joey rolled his eyes. “And the children have expressed that they’d like me to stay for the holiday. If you will not allow me to, that is a different matter.”

“Of course you can stay, but we need to talk about us. What’s going on here, Kaiba?”

“You’ve made it clear, enough times, that you don’t want me, not in the way that I want you,” Kaiba added, typing speed not diminished in the slightest. “None of that has changed, like you said. And so I don’t know why you are bothering me, now.”

Jou shifted slightly in his chair, his stomach tuning over. Sitting next to Kaiba hadn’t given him this sort of anxiety for so long, maybe ever. He was used to hot anger, coursing through his veins, pooling in his fists. This uneasy détente felt simultaneously unsustainable and like the exact tar pit they’d been drowning in for the last three years.

“I don’t know that I meant that. I mean, yeah, in the moment, I meant it. But,” Joey leaned back, trying to reposition himself so that he might be more comfortable. There didn’t seem to be any decent way to sit in his own damn chair. “But it doesn’t mean, you really didn’t change at all. A little. Or that you couldn’t change… enough.”

Kaiba’s typing speed finally slowed, acquiescing to the intensity of the conversation. Frankly, as Kaiba drew one hand to seal the lid of his laptop, Joey was willing to call that a change. He hadn’t even had to literally ask Kaiba to stop working. “Jounouchi. Tell me what you want to hear.”

“Fine.” Joey straightened his shoulders. “I want to know what happened when you went back to Domino.”

There was a long pause.

“I stayed on Mokuba’s couch for three months.” Kaiba crossed his arms defensively. 

Joey burst out with warm laughter. Kaiba didn’t blush, but he raised an eyebrow, as if to signal his ex-husband was not being the image of social grace. Maybe he’d forgotten to whom he was married.

“And how’d he like that?” Joey said as his breathing steadied.

“He liked it fine. He has always appreciated my cooking. His fiancé did not.”

And like that, Joey was lost in another cacophony of giggles. “Why didn’t you go back to the manor?”

Kaiba looked away, suddenly fascinated by the crystal decanter that had returned to the end table. “It was… uncomfortable, after all this time. After Mokuba’s partner made her opinion clear—”

“God, I can only imagine what the arguments were like,” Joey smiled again, bright as sunshine.

“It was not pleasant. Obviously, my brother and I are still very close, but there were certain problems that arose—”

Joey leaned back in the chair, and balanced his feet on the coffee table. To the untrained observer, it could have been mistaken for casual. But all of the muscles of his legs were tense, the tendons that collided with the table strung like the strong of a bow. “I bet I can guess: you show up at 2 am, you make whatever noise you’re gonna make with no regard for anyone sleeping, you sleep in all day after a couple of all-nighters unpredictably—”

“Yes,” Kaiba said, his voice somewhat soured. “Everything that you hate about me, unsurprisingly was also loathsome to Yui.”

“That’s not… Kaiba its not things I hate about _you_ ,” Joey shifted again in the chair, picking at his nailbeds. He looked as if he had been called into the principal’s office again after a fight. “It’s shit that you do, that you choose to do, that’s disrespectful to the people around you. I’m glad to hear that Yui didn’t take it.”

“After a time, you didn’t either, right?” Kaiba responded, the sadness seeping in a little. From the longing glance he shot at the whiskey, the allure of the crystal decanter was strong; the urge to not deal with his ex-husband in this mood, fully sober, was perhaps stronger.

But there was something about Joey’s words that seemed to put up a forcefield around the bottle. _“But it doesn’t mean, you really didn’t change at all. A little. Or that you couldn’t change… enough.”_

Joey rolled his eyes, pressing fast-forward on the tired argument. “That wasn’t all of it, and we both know that you know better. But just tell me what else happened.”

Kaiba’s sour expression and defensive posture continued. “After that, I got an apartment near the office. I only used the manor in the Summer, when the children came to visit.” Kaiba eyed that bottle once more. “It was disconcerting to be there alone. I thought… that this is what _he_ must have… felt like.”

As if saying his name would have brought him into their life, awakened some other dormant form of _him_ trapped between this world and the Hell he so surely belonged in.

They sat there, soaking in the ghosts of the past a little longer. Joey wasn’t going to say anything to break the silence—he knew from experience that with enough stubbornness, Seto would eventually be forced to say something to change the subject or actually talk about his feelings.

After just a couple of minutes, Joey was proven right.

“Are you really happy working at the daycare?” Kaiba asked. 

“How did you—” It was only natural that Kaiba would have Joey at a loss again.

“Yugi is a game developer, you know that he collaborates with Kaiba Corp. We talk… sometimes,” Kaiba said, feigning nonchalance. It was not persuasive. Kaiba’s intensity for everything was too strong. Joey was quite certain he’d never had a casual interest in his entire life.

“Yeah. Things are good,” Joey answered the original question.

Kaiba nodded at the input and reopened the laptop. The glare illuminated the wire framed lenses, hiding any expression within his eyes. “I’m getting back to work.”

Joey considered putting up a fight. But it had been a long enough day. In a move reminiscent of his ex, he rose from his seat wordlessly and went his own way.


	3. {{ December 22 }}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holiday shopping, Christmas cookies, and a movie marathon... and maybe a touch of actual communication?

Joey wandered downstairs at seven in the morning. He was surprised to see Kaiba inspecting the to-do list on his fridge in between long swigs from his KC branded mug. 

“You haven’t finished holiday shopping?!” Kaiba’s panic-whisper sounded like he was really concerned about whether Christmas was ruined. His eye contact was almost frenetic.

“I thought I’d leave the kids with Serenity while I do the shopping, she’s supposed to be working the Christmas day shift at the hospital, so she was going to have a couple nights off… I mean it’s not…” Joey looked at the ceiling, as if he could avoid conflict if he didn’t meet the burning blue flames in his ex’s eyes. He steeled himself with a deep inhale. “It’s not as much of a production when you’re not here.”

The KC mug hit the kitchen island with not-insubstantial force. The fruit dish shook with the vibration, bananas swinging from the hook, and Joey tore his eyes from the ceiling to see the drops of black coffee that had hit the granite. 

“And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?” Kaiba asked, or rather hissed, without a questioning lilt in his voice.

Joey cracked his knuckles involuntarily. Instead of letting his fingers ball into fists, he jerked open the refrigerator door and yanked out the carton of orange juice.

“You’re a smart man. I’m sure you can guess.” Joey didn’t look away from the task at hand. He militantly focused on pouring orange juice into a tall clean glass.

And there was that sinister “Kaiba” gravel, every bit as menacing as it had ever been as he hissed over the kitchen counter, “Enlighten me.” He sounded like Yugi’s troubled teen nemesis again.

Joey flipped around, gripping the orange juice to keep himself from saying too much that he would regret. “Things are more mellow, now. It isn’t about going overboard to prove a point.”

Kaiba blinked, clearly expecting a harsher phrasing. “Is it now?”

“Yeah. When I was a kid I didn’t have much for Christmas and I came out just fine…” Here it comes, Joey thought, trying not to show the hesitation in his voice as he finished, “They don’t have to be spoiled rotten.” 

Joey smirked as he said it. Commenting on their different parenting styles was a low blow, but it had been just too much fun. Joey thought regret would drop into his stomach, but it never hit. Instead, his heart jumped a little, the thrill of getting a rise out of Kaiba as seductive as ever.

“Spoiled?!” Kaiba’s voice lowered in volume and tone. Joey didn’t even try to suppress his mocking grin. Instead, he chugged the rest of his orange juice, slammed down the glass and bolted from the kitchen. 

“Get back here!” Kaiba said. Tonally, it was a shout, but volume-wise? Neither of them wanted the kids to wake up quite yet, even though there were probably only minutes left on the clock in that regard.

Joey slid on his socks as he ran down the hallway, drifting as he took a sharp turn. Kaiba sprang to life, suddenly in hot pursuit.

Kaiba was fast, with those long, toned legs and that Terminator-like determination. But he hadn’t spent the last three years wrangling toddlers and chasing after Alexis, who just loved wandering off at the most inopportune times. Plus, while Kaiba had memorized the floor plan at one time, Joey was recently and intimately familiar with it. 

The tie breaker was the stairs—with a carved bannister that had seen better days, days before Atticus had been allowed poster paint and before Alexis had taken a tap class. Finally, Joey’s socks gambit came to bite him in the ass as the smoothness of the glossy wooden stairs and the lack of traction from the socks caused him to slip. And that wave of tripping Joey collided into a scampering Kaiba, and the two of them tumbled down the stairs.

The resulting clatter woke the kids up.

. . .

The mall was a zoo—minus the organization. Children were everywhere, and somehow all screaming at once. Everyone looked stressed, perhaps the employees most of all. And Joey realized that he didn’t really have a strategy.

Leaving the kids home with Kaiba was a luxury, and he had sort of forgotten how nice it was to have back up childcare that wasn’t molded around Serenity’s shifts as an RN. It was sort of strange too, because it was one of the few things that was completely new. 

Before they separated, Kaiba never watched the kids alone—they had a full staff for that. 

Would they all have a miserable time? Joey smirked to himself as he strolled past another festive display—a family of mannequins in matching flannel pajamas. Being outnumbered by the kids could be quite a problem, and although Alexis had lone wolf tendencies, when they combined forces the two were quite powerful.

Joey idly imagined what sort of hell they might put Kaiba through as he shopped for some small things to put in their stockings. He was knocked out of his reverie by eyes fell upon a yo-yo display at the toy store.

After picking up a few small trinkets—and decidedly no yo-yo’s, Joey approached the cash register.

He was not pleased to find an unfamiliar credit card in his wallet. _When did Kaiba even have the time to slip that in?_ Joey ran his thumb over the raised letters of his own name. _Did Kaiba just have these lying around?_ In any case, Joey steadfastly refused to use it, tucking the heavy black card back into the recesses of his worn leather wallet.

He contemplated, momentarily, throwing it in one of the trash bins that he passed by, overflowing with spent holiday Starbucks cups and overly long receipts. But if someone did get ahold of it, they might ring up some charges that could look like Joey was _actually using the card_. It would ruin the integrity of the refutation.

But the little rectangular siren was hard to keep from his mind. Every time he made a purchase, there it was, tempting him to draw from an unlimited account. _Snap shut the golden handcuffs again_ , the card whispered. _Make everything easier_.

But Joey Wheeler was a determined man. Detractors might use the phrase stubborn, but it didn’t matter which one was more accurate. When he had a plan, he stuck to it. To the bitter end. So even though he was pushing the admittedly fragile budget to it’s limits at the music store and on _Cyber Angel_ card packs, it remained sealed away.

Until he passed a very sad looking fundraiser.

Joey considered, as he lingered past the charity drive seeking toys for a group home for teens in the Bronx, that he might put the card to use. He realized he seemed a little off, staring down the charity workers, who were dressed as unconvincing elves, with the big collection boxes.

Joey had a timetable. He had a not unimpressive list still remaining. But that fucking card was burning a hole in his pocket. It was practically radiating heat.

But he caved. He lost the battle with the black card when he emptied the local game shop’s entire stock of new model-duel disks and donated them. Joey was trembling as he signed them over, what the name of the donor would be.

He settled on anonymous and determined that he would cut the card into fifty pieces the second he got home and scatter the shards through the trash. The damn thing was too tempting.

By the time Joey pulled into the driveway and slammed open the front door, he was ready to fight about what had happened. 

But his family wasn’t immediately in view. The lights in the kitchen were on, and Joey could hear soft classical covers of Christmas music and he thought he could make out the sound of Alexis laughing.

The wind was knocked out of him when he turned the corner to see Kaiba’s black turtleneck splattered with flour. 

The whole kitchen had taken a beating. Flour hadn’t just tarnished Kaiba’s polished look—it had dusted the cabinets and part of the fridge Kaiba must not have realized how easily dry ingredients spray from the stand mixer if dropped in first. 

The kitchen counters certainly were not spared from the ingredient massacre. The entire kitchen island was covered in flour, some spilled food dye—which Joey could already sense would never come out of the granite—and a surprising amount of raw egg. 

Upon further inspection, Kaiba was actually the one least impacted by the ingredient apocalypse. There was sugar and frosting all over Alexis’s face— _how, Joey might never know_ —and Atticus had managed to paint some of his hair blue with blue frosting. 

“Alright. Cookies are decorated and prepared for Mr. Claus, fulfilling your contractual obligations,” Kaiba said resolutely, as if he had not turned their living space into a warzone. “What is next on the festive itinerary?”

“First rule of Christmas: you must get munk’d!” Atticus announced.

Joey knocked on the boundary wall of the kitchen to announce his arrival. He expected Kaiba to look much more surprised than he did. Instead, Kaiba’s affectionate attention merely pivoted between Atticus and Joey. It was warm and familial, and it sent a pang of heat and guilt and maybe something else down Joey’s spine.

“Next is getting this cleaned up, I think,” Joey said, finding himself in uncharted territory. It felt weird to be the responsible one out of him and Kaiba. He still wasn’t used to being the buzzkill parent, and he didn’t like it.

Kaiba could have said something mean—made some comment about would spoil the fun, but instead he nodded politely. “Yes,” Kaiba surveyed the room. “I think that would be the next step.”

While the kids groaned at the thought of helping with the chores component of the activity, Joey went to inspect the output.

Apparently, Kaiba had lead the kids through the process of making gingerbread men. Four were set aside and logically decorated to be their family: a stretched out one with blue blobs for eyes and a little black gel icing frown, a slightly more squished one with yellow on top in some sort of approximation of Joey’s hair, and two smaller ones representing each kid. 

They really did look like a family.

“You can’t eat those ones,” Kaiba instructed from over Joey’s shoulder. Joey startled at the interruption. He hadn’t realized his ex had gotten so close, and was looming over him properly. 

“I figured they might be a little special.”

“Frankly, I don’t know that I’m comfortable with Santa eating them. I’m a bit worried he’d just bite my head off, and leave him as an example to the others.”

Joey laughed.

“I don’t think Santa’s supposed to leave death threats to the cookies, Kaiba. But uh…” Joey reached for another plate which had not been as lovingly decorated. He tore the little head of a random gingerbread man with this teeth, and noted the nice flavor. Butter and molasses and a hint of cloves. He placed the decapitated body of the gingerbread man back down on the display plate. “This guy’ll scare the rest of ‘em straight.”

. . .

After everyone had gotten cleaned up and changed into pajamas (and Joey had discretely moved the gifts into the master bedroom closet), the family reconvened in the living room.

“Oto-san, are you ready for the greatest movies ever made?” Atticus announced. He seemed confident that his father wasn’t ready—and he was right. “Are you ready to get… _‘munk’d_?”

Kaiba poked at his reading glasses and adjusted his laptop screen. He had been working on some spreadsheets or something, but his interest was obviously piqued.

Joey smiled. He knew exactly what Kaiba was in for, and he was going to savor it.

“Munk’d?” Kaiba repeated back carefully, as if he was worried it was a swear or a slur.

“Yeah!” Atticus grabbed the remote and deftly navigated the SmartTV through a few different apps before finding exactly what he was looking for. “It’s a quadrilogy.”

Kaiba slowly tiled his laptop screen down. “That’s not a word.”

“I have an inventive spirit, Oto-san!” Atticus’s smile beamed forward as he continued to queue the feature film. Without looking away from the screen, Atticus added, “Just like you.”

The soft smile that graced Kaiba’s features stung at Joey immediately. And it vanished at the first pitchy note of the CGI Alvin and the Chipmunks warbling through Daniel Powter’s 2005 hit, “Bad Day.”

“See, they’re kids, but they’re also rock stars!” Atticus enthused. Before Kaiba could get out any other response, Atticus cracked up at the vintage CGI creatures jumping into a muffin basket.

“It’s okay if you don’t like this one, Oto-san,” Alexis offered, hopping up on the couch on the other side. “They get better when they introduce the Chipettes in the Squeakquel.”

Joey wished he had photographed the resulting look of horror on Kaiba’s face.

Joey leaned back in his own arm chair, nursing a fresh mug of hot cocoa. “Quadrilogy, Kaiba. That means there are four of them.”

After the first movie, the kids we already starting to wear down a little. Kaiba had sat through the entire thing, undulating between puzzled and disturbed at the dated animation, the fact that the chipmunks had managed to get into and out of a dishwasher unharmed, and that the moral of the movie appeared to be that brothers should be very careful about who adopts them.

“This entire thing could have been prevented if the Chipmunks had just retained counsel before signing the relevant contracts,” Kaiba said dismissively.

Joey couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s about family, Kaiba.”

Any further discussion was cut off by the raucous opening music for the _Squeakquel_ and ninety-ish minutes later, _Alvin and the Chipmunks: Chipwrecked_.

It was a true Christmas miracle that the kids passed out on the couch before the start of _Alvin and the Chipmunks 4: The Road Chip._

Joey met Kaiba’s slightly tired eyes. Admittedly, the ending of _Chipwrecked_ was somewhat jarring. Frankly, the entire thing was more of a fever dream mixed with memes from 2011 than a sensible film. “Alright, I’ll take Alexis, if you can take Atticus?”

Kaiba nodded solemnly, accepting the delegation.

Alexis was usually pretty easy to get to sleep, though sometimes she was anxious from the day’s events, or too busy planning the next day to focus on getting to bed. Joey was not at all surprised that Kaiba was taking longer to get Atticus down for the night. He peered through the cracked door to see Atticus’s room illuminated by the little nightlight—shaped like a music note. 

In the dim light, it was clear that Kaiba was sitting on the edge of Atticus’s bed. Atticus was all tucked in, holding his Red Eyes Black Dragon plushie, and gazing up at his father.

“And every night when you go to sleep…” Seto prompted, sounding almost like a strict teacher.

“I am loved,” Atticus replied.

“And every morning when you wake up?” Seto started the second part of the call and response.

“I am loved,” Atticus answered, “Oto-san, you don’t have to say it every night when you’re around! I know you love me.”

“It is important to me that you never doubt it, and never forget it. Even when I’m not around.” Joey’s heart could have melted in that second.

Atticus laughed. “You’re so sappy, Oto-san. I don’t know why Uncle Honda calls you a frozen bastard!” 

Joey could barely muffle his reaction.

Kaiba’s face whipped around to the cracked open door. “Jounouchi?” He whispered harshly. But it was to no real effect. Joey was already lost to laughter, and dashed through the hallway. By the time Joey dared to retrace his steps back to Atticus’s door frame, Kaiba had vanished. 

. . .

It was not hard to guess where Kaiba had retreated to. Joey pushed open the door of the study and was met with the increasingly familiar sight of his ex-husband in his oxblood leather chair, swirling a glass of expensive, aged, imported whiskey in his long fingers and staring at it like it held the secrets of the universe.

“I saw you with Atticus,” Joey offered, wandering into the study. He looked more at the full shelves of books than at his ex. Most of the volumes were in Japanese, but a select few were in English. Warren Buffet’s autobiography was open on his lap, but Joey was fairly sure he wasn’t actually reading it.

“Yes,” Kaiba answered, flipping the page. No, Joey was sure he hadn’t actually read it, his eyes never really left the swirling amber.

“And he musta overheard a call with Honda. It wasn’t on purpose or anything.”

Kaiba nodded wordlessly.

“You really do miss them, huh?” Joey asked, trying not to sound as nostalgic as he felt.

Kaiba’s face remained stoic, but he took a sip of the whiskey instead of answering. Only that asshole could make something so mundane utterly captivating. Joey hated that he would wait for a response as long as he needed to. Joey’s eyes searched the hand clasping the glass, and noted with a brutal sinking feeling, that the ring was off again.

“Why are you here, Jounouchi?” Kaiba asked finally.

“It’s my house, now. I can go anywhere I want,” Joey announced. Kaiba ignored this answer, and turned his head down to the book on his lap. He flipped another page. 

Joey considered whether he should just leave, skip out on the argument, avoid it all and properly give up. Let his ex-husband drink his gross fancy liquor and read his boring book and luxuriate in the solitude as only Seto Kaiba could.

But it had been three years. Three years of not demanding answers. Three years with no clarity. So Joey broke the silence.

“Why didn’t you fight for me? For our family? Even for a second?” Joey felt the heat in his own voice, burning the back of his throat. That was how it was, fighting with Kaiba. A never ending battle of fire and ice.

Kaiba was silent, and took a long sip of the Japanese whiskey. He closed the book, which was more respect than Joey had anticipated.

“That’s what broke my heart, really.” Tears threatened to fall out of Joeys eyes as he said it. “That I told you that it was over, and you couldn’t spare one shred of anger, or sadness, or anything.” Joey hated the pleading tone in his own voice. “It felt like you had already dumped me.”

Kaiba raised his glance from the book cover, the amber glass, and instead looked him dead in the eye. Joey wondered if those blue eyes had always been so lifeless and hollow. “So, you wanted me to argue with you?”

“I don’t know,” Joey answered, running a hand through his messy blond hair. He hadn’t planned the whole argument out. Frankly, he hadf didn’t expect any response.

“Our children didn’t need to watch that,” Kaiba said.

“Watch what? A conversation? An argument? You think it would have been worse for them to hear their parents argue or yell _once_ than… going through a whole fucking divorce?” Joey’s volume crept up and he was done controlling it.

Kaiba didn’t answer. He looked into the glass again, but didn’t lift it. 

“Or what? What couldn’t they see? You actually _respect my time_? Respect _me_?” Joey wasn’t used to having the rhetorical upper hand, and he wasn’t going to waste it, gesticulating wildly. “I got no respect my whole life, I wasn’t gonna let my kids see me treated like that too.”

For all the theatrics, Kaiba scarcely responded. 

“Watch it happen again,” Kaiba almost whispered. There was a ghostly quality to the statement, as if Kaiba neither meant to say it nor for Joey to hear it. Kaiba cleared his throat and started again. He brought his eyes back up to meet Joey’s.

“I learned that lesson a long time ago,” Kaiba’s jaw was clenched so tightly the words almost didn’t escape. “I’m not trying to be loved by someone who doesn’t love me.” Kaiba’s fingers twitched, as if he wanted to fiddle with something. But his control and focus wouldn’t let him give in.

For Joey’s part, he stood and tried to absorb these complete non-sequiturs.

“I can’t, and I won’t, try to force or trick you or anyone else into caring about me. I have paid dearly for that miscalculation before. I will not make the same mistake again.” 

For all of the “slow” comments he had been subjected to over the years, Joey caught up quickly enough to what Kaiba was referring to. And he wasn’t going to let him play that card, get out of all responsibility because he had emotional constipation.

“You realize there’s a difference between someone asking you to be a better partner and… and not loving you anymore. Asking you to adjust some things instead of… never wanting to see you again. Things aren’t just black and white!” Joey answered.

“Divorce papers are black and white, Jounouchi.” Kaiba finally downed the rest of the glass, the lilt of his voice the same as a “check mate.”

Joey hated to be the first to raise his voice but that door had already been opened. He wasn’t going to be able to get the toothpaste back in the tube. 

“Have you _met_ you?! You wouldn’t listen to anything less! And I tried!” Joey shouted, hands raised defensively.

“I wasn’t going to stay where I wasn’t wanted, and you made it very clear that you didn’t want to be with me.” Kaiba didn’t answer with the same volume, but the intensity was raised and the harshness of his voice was jarring. His eyes narrowed like a hawk eying prey. “I didn’t change, for the record. I did not degrade or fail or alter in any way. No, I stayed exactly the same. You simply decided you did not want _that_ anymore.”

“You’re damn right, I was sick of being disrespected. I spent a lot of time not wanting to feel that way anymore. And you really wouldn’t take my feelings into consideration. Was I supposed to tolerate that forever?” Joey’s volume increased with every clipped sentence.

Kaiba’s voice became more languid—as if he was more comfortable responding to the anger. He sounded somewhat like he was pondering his answer as he said it. Drunk on whiskey and a philosophical sense. “Isn’t that what you promised you would do? What unconditional love is supposed to be? Unconditional: without conditions. And yet, after years, suddenly you have conditions—"

“Excuse me?” Joey interrupted.

“You promised. That your love for me, for our family, was unconditional. And then, years later, you have a set of demands. That is the very _essence_ of a condition.” Kaiba finished the glass with his scholarly speech, placing it next to the decanter. He shoved the book onto the side table as well.

“There’s a difference between not loving someone and wanting to be treated like your damn husband.” Kaiba’s tone rubbed off on him somewhat, as if it was a scholarly discussion about the terms of their marriage. Like if he could just explain it clearly enough, he could talk his husband back into their marriage.

Kaiba kept his hands busy pouring another glass. “Well you were right. You’re doing better now, aren’t you? Enjoying your work, the kids are fine. You proved it—you don’t need me at all. And you don’t want me. In three days, I’ll be gone, and you can go back to your better way of life.”

“It’s not—I’m not better now! I’m fine, things are fine, just different and—” Joey stuttered, hands defensively raised. “And, and having you here has been... It hasn’t made anything worse. It’s like you changed for the better.”

“I don’t _change_ , Jounouchi. I am who I am.” Kaiba said, the cruel air of finality sounding as much like a business decision as anything else. 

Joey’s eyes widened and he gestured wildly. “Fuck, Kaiba… Then what’s this?! You’ve made it for three days actually being… just, present. For once. Three years too late. Why? Why now and not then?”

Kaiba shrugged and looked away.

Joey closed the distance, looming over his ex-husband, perched in the chair. “I know why,” Joey said, menace in his voice. “It’s because you only respond to threats. Consequences. And now you know the consequences, so you’re getting your act together.”

Kaiba met his eyes, but looked brutally tired. “I am trying to give you what you want for a few days, Jounouchi. Call it a Christmas present to the father of my children.”

“You’re saying this is an _act_?”

He titled his head all the way back, eyes glued to the ceiling and thumb and forefinger pinching his nose bridge, just above the wire of his glasses. “I don’t know what this is, Jounouchi. Just be happy, or whatever, and leave me in peace.”

Joey really thought about leaving. He wanted to. But he wasn’t quite done, not really, and he’d been avoiding this fight for years. Joey never used to back down from a fight, and neither did Kaiba. It brought them to blows for years, and the avoidance of conflict had been more sickening than any gut-punch Joey had ever taken.

“I’m not gonna.” Joey said, simply. Hands on his hips, standing his ground.

Kaiba leaned up again, head snapping to attention, hand already on the crystal decanter. “What?”

“Leave. I’m not gonna do it. You can try to make me. I’m not done, alright?! You’re obviously not done,” Joey pushed forward, grabbing Kaiba’s wrist and pulling his hand off of the decanter. “Make it easy. Say you’ll be better, Kaiba.”

“I won’t do that. I don’t change, Jounouchi, because I _can’t_ change.” Kaiba did nothing with his wrist, except allow it to go limp in Joey’s grasp. It was as if he was that confident in the strength of his words that he didn’t so much as care to tense a muscle. “I will ask you once more, nicely. Get out of my office.”

“No.” Joey dropped his wrist, and Kaiba retracted it into his lap. “You can change. You did. You just didn’t notice.” It felt good, Joey thought, being honest for once with this man that he used to love.

“I have work.” 

“You _don’t_. They can’t fire you.” Joey got up in his face, so close he could smell Kaiba’s shampoo. Other than the soft sandalwood scent, it felt a bit like when he was riling up a rival high school bully back in Domino. “Fight me! Make me leave! You want me to go _so bad_? Then _make me_!”

Kaiba smirked, knowingly. Then he leaned his head back against the chair. His bangs fully eclipsed his eyes. “I won’t. _I’ll just sleep here._ ” There it was again. The checkmate tenor.

“Fine!” Joey plopped down in the seat next to him, the velvet of his matching seat just soft enough. “Then I’ll sleep here too.”

If Kaiba shifted his eyes to check, Joey couldn’t tell under the thick brown bangs. In any case, the stubborn ass didn’t get up. He didn’t storm off or leave. He just stayed there, like a determined rock under Joey’s constant observation. 

After about half an hour, Joey heard the even breathing pick up into a light snore.

In the morning, Kaiba awoke alone in the guest room, with no memory of how he got there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did Joey haul Kaiba’s dumb ass across the house at 3 am? You decide. (Yes, he did, it was harder than he thought it would be.)


	4. {{ December 23 }}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A family ice skating outing has unintended consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Scars. No reference to how they got there, but there is some subtext. Viewer discretion is advised.

There was something entirely too pleasing about watching the full body crunch that Kaiba did when Joey slammed down the thermos of coffee. The bottle of painkillers was already sitting sentinel in the same position it had been two days prior.

It was almost as entertaining watching Kaiba realize that he was in the guest room and not his study. He blinked and stuttered, visibly recalibrating. 

Under the right circumstances, there might not be a living man as quick as Joey’s ex-husband. These were clearly not the right circumstances.

“We’re going ice skating in an hour. If you want to come, I’ll see you in the kitchen.” Joey slammed the door for effect.

Joey thought he heard Kaiba moan through the door, “since when do you ice skate?” but he was too busy moving on with his day.

. . .

For the record, Joey had gone ice skating before on a number of occasions. And even during their marriage, he went at least once every year with the kids. Kaiba simply hadn’t bothered to care enough to keep track of that sort of festive outing—it was exactly the sort of thing that just slid under the radar when they had been together. Not important enough to be the basis of a fight, but exactly the sort of thing where Joey felt more like a single father or the chair of the childcare committee than…

Well, it had been hard to watch all the couples gracefully rounding the ice. Holding each other as they caught their partner’s breath. Warm hands in mittens or gloved fingers intertwined.

Last year, Alexis had requested to take lessons in ice skating, and the first introduction program for five-year-olds required that a parent attend.

Alexis could spin around and do a couple more tricks than her dad, but Joey could go pretty fast forward, and could even go backwards if he was focused on it.

Atticus wasn’t exactly a natural at it, but his ballroom dancing lessons had made him pretty confident scooting around with a chair. At one point Joey had foolishly suggested that he might enjoy hockey instead, and had been rewarded with a small musical number about how absolutely uninterested he was in the sport. 

In the next Summer, Joey would at least suggest that he try surfing. 

“Maybe you’ll be a natural,” Joey offered, more mockingly than not, as he fixed the laces on Kaiba’s ice skates, which the taller man had tied in an ugly knot. The blades were sharp and cold, and the rented pair was jet black. They all but melted into his black exercise pants and charcoal turtleneck. Frankly, with his lean build, he looked like a professional skater—as long as he stayed seated. Kaiba adjusted his glasses over those striking blue eyes—and it made Joey realize he was staring.

Once Kaiba was on his feet, teetering on the blades and holding anything within his significant arm span, it was clear that he was _not_ a professional.

It wasn’t that his husband wasn’t athletic—the man could dominate at yoga, hold his own at the average CrossFit gym, and played an absolutely devilish game of tennis.

But there are just some leisure activities where you only develop the skill through, well leisure. And leisure had never been Kaiba’s specialty.

So he was gripping on to the wall, knuckles as white as the ice that he quivered atop. He tried to approach the situation with dignity, but his eyes were too wide. Fortunately for him, Alexis was spinning around with Atticus. Atticus was trying to convince her that her solo career was not nearly as promising as some sort of brother and sister pairs act.

Joey had half a mind to ditch Kaiba and go for a couple laps, enjoy the wind in his hair. But seeing his ex-husband clutch the wall with a fear Joey hadn’t seen since ancient Egyptian magic was a regular piece of their lives… Well the whole view was equal parts funny and sorta sad.

“You’re gonna have to move your feet, Kaiba. It’s part of it,” Joey offered.

One hand glued to the wall, Kaiba inched one foot forward.

He did not topple, surprising himself.

“Alright, now you move the other one.”

A small measure of success was found.

“Now if you bend your knees that might help with the balance…” Joey unconsciously offered an arm. 

Kaiba evaluated it, like he was calculating whether Joey’s forest green wool Christmas sweater was clean enough.

“I can leave you, or I can show you how it’s done,” Joey added.

Kaiba took a deep inhale, closing his eyes, almost seeming to meditate on what to do. And then Joey felt those familiar long fingers loop over his bicep. Kaiba’s grip was warm and sturdy. Somehow it was steadying, even if the man himself was shaking somewhat. It felt simultaneously like a huge risk and like he was finally safe.

Having that spark of warmth circling his arm was just a little heartbreaking. It made all of the untouched parts of his body feel colder. 

“I assume that you have to start moving, Jounouchi?” Kaiba prompted snidely. _Fuck_ , Joey thought, _how am I not supposed to stare at him._

As Joey began to propel them forward, he had a much harder time staring. The wind ruffling Kaiba’s smooth brown hair, flecks of grey disappearing into the wind with the first snowflakes that started to patter down, the surprise in his eyes as he reacted to Joey’s increase in speed.

With a few more careful strokes, their speed evened off to a fast clip. For a few seconds, they just glided together. 

Out of seemingly nowhere, Kaiba laughed. Mouth open and face entirely illuminated. “We’re really going!” Kaiba announced, as if he had never expected that they would actually go fast at all.

Joey’s heart skipped a beat, and he was lost in the speed too. They were in their own icy world, just the two of them.

And they nearly collided with the glass wall of the ice rink. Joey came to his senses first, and caught the wall before Kaiba could even react. They came to a screeching halt, Joey’s skates cutting into the ice as he tried to brake.

They both separated, each man catching his respective breath. Joey thought Kaiba was glowing in a way he had not seen in years.

And the look in Kaiba’s eyes as he returned to Joey—it was something between love and trust. Something a little bit like worship and a lot like magic. It was a bit like the way that Kaiba had looked over at him after their first time.

The realization that for as much as Kaiba had to offer, Joey had something to show Kaiba too. 

Paired with the slight flush of his cheeks, and the snow that just started to fall, lightly crowding the background with little white flakes, Joey couldn’t help himself. With one gloved hand over Seto’s blushing cheek, he guided Seto’s chin down, and their lips together.

It was the perfect warm kiss. It made everything more comfortable, softer. The world faded out to a soft haze. Joey closed his eyes, like if he couldn’t see the world continue moving them maybe he could stay in that peaceful moment forever. 

Just as Joey realized he should have pulled away, he felt Kaiba press further, and deepen the kiss just a little. He tasted like peppermint and coffee.

The moment could have lasted forever. Just little snowflakes trapped in the air, frozen in time.

“Dad?!”

_Shit._

Kaiba pulled away immediately, eyes flaring wide. Joey didn’t doubt that his own face looked the same—like he had been shocked by a loose wire, like his hair was standing on end.

Atticus’s follow up was so innocently curious. “Are you and—”

“No.” Kaiba cut him off, harsher than Joey expected and certainly harsher than Atticus had prepared for. “That was nothing.”

Kaiba pushed off of the wall and glided for a few feet before he realized that even after his adventure… he still couldn’t skate. With one stutter in his step, Kaiba’s left skate caught on a gash in the ice and he was flat on his ass. 

Joey felt for the guy, under his confusion and frustration. Joey made moves to go over to help, but Kaiba shot back, “You’ve done enough.”

With a bit more humiliating grappling, Kaiba made it to the rink wall, and edged his way back to the gates.

Joey thought he heard someone nearby muse aloud, “Is that Seto Kaiba?” but everything but watching the slow motion train wreck in front of him faded out.

. . .

The car ride home was awkward.

Kaiba, the inventor of the “bitter sulk” angled as much of himself toward the window as possible. He looked like he could really climb out of it, if only he wasn’t strapped down by his seatbelt.

Unfortunately for Kaiba, although some people were willing to maintain a tense and respectful silence, Atticus was nine and he had a lot of thoughts.

Right now, especially, he had a lot of questions.

“So, are you getting back together?” He asked, after Kaiba had only been able to brood for about five minutes of the car ride home.

“No,” Kaiba answered, resolute.

“But you were kissing each other. Like Prince Eric and Ariel, or—”

“Sometimes adults do that.” Kaiba interrupted, before Atticus could demonstrate his impressive memorization of Disney princesses.

“Adults in _loooove_ ,” Atticus cooed.

“Atticus, Oto-san is right, sometimes that sort of thing happens and it’s just—”

Alexis interrupted softly, “Are we going to be a family again?”

The question hung in the air for a few tense moments. 

Kaiba unfolded from the passenger seat.

“Alexis, we have always been a family,” Kaiba began slowly, seriously. “We never stopped being a family.”

Kaiba took a deep breath, giving Joey the opportunity to intercede. But Joey declined and just let Kaiba finish saying his piece.

“We have always cared about and loved each other, even though we no longer live all together. That is what a family is. In that way, we are always a family, no matter what.” And to punctuate the end of his speech and signal that no, he would not be taking questions, Kaiba pressed play on his phone, triggering the Chipmunks Christmas album and releasing screeching tree-rodent holiday ballads throughout the car.

. . .

Kaiba disappeared the second they got into the house. Once Joey was done settling everyone in, he decided he might as well hunt for his ex-husband and actually sort out what, exactly, had happened at the rink.

Joey was shocked to find the study empty. Kaiba’s work laptop sat there, abandoned. The decanter of whiskey was no more depleted than it had been the night before.

It was only four p.m. It seemed impossible that the relatively mellow day of ice could have exhausted his ex-husband to that degree. All through those real struggles and tough times, and Joey still hadn’t known his ex to go to bed before midnight.

Joey knocked softly on the door to the guest room. He heard a low groan in response. That could mean anything. Joey hadn’t really remembered walking in on his ex-husband doing anything… interesting… before. Maybe he had fallen in the shower or something?

“Kaiba? You okay in there?”

“I’m fine.” The strangled tinge in his voice made it quite clear that it wasn’t the case.

“Ya don’t sound like it. I’m comin’ in, better be decent.” Of course, Joey thought, it wouldn’t be anything he hadn’t seen before. Or anything he wouldn’t mind seeing again.

What was actually waiting for him was an unfamiliar sight to Joey. Kaiba, still dressed in his ice skating outfit, faced down on his bed. Just lying there, as if he had been struck by lightning and was just stuck there.

“Kaiba?” Joey’s voice was concerned and warm, and maybe a bit sadistically curious.

Kaiba growled in response.

“What… what happened?”

Kaiba sighed directly into the pillow. “It’s… my back. I must have… fallen the wrong way when ice skating.”

If there was any further explanation, it was drowned out by Joey’s cackling laughter.

“It’s not funny,” Kaiba huffed into the pillow. “And, it’s your fault.”

Joey climbed on to the bed, planning his knees on either side of Kaiba’s enviably sculpted torso. “Alright, alright. Shirt off.”

Kaiba snapped his head to the side, just enough to be able to side-eye his ex. “Excuse me?”

“Eh, your back is jacked up. I’m not wrapping all the presents by myself. Ya want me to fix it or not?” Joey’s hands crept along Seto’s spine. Even over his shirt it was divine enough for Seto to lose his stoic sensibilities and released an actual moan. 

It wasn’t lost on Joey that it was probably the first time in the last few years someone had touched Seto affectionately, with the exception of their ill-advised liaison the first night and the precious kiss on the ice rink.

Within seconds, Kaiba’s arms had withdrawn to his core, and he began to remove the shirt from where it was pressed against the bed. Shucking off the top, Kaiba kept his eyes trained on the pillow ahead of him.

“Just because you really did procrastinate on preparing for Christmas,” Kaiba rationalized aloud, muffled by the pillow.

“Yeah, sure Kaiba.” Joey rolled his eyes, even though Kaiba couldn’t see it. But he couldn’t deny that he didn’t mind the … angle.

Joey tried to keep himself from drooling. Was it really that necessary for Kaiba’s back muscles to be chiseled? No one could even see them from under all those jackets. 

Joey reached forward to knead at the juncture between Kaiba’s spine and shoulder blades, hands perfectly symmetrical on either side. He was instantly rewarded with another low groan.

“I forgot how good at this you are,” Kaiba said, his voice muffled by the pillow. 

Joey laughed easily. He almost responded _I forgot how much better I like you when you’re face down_ , but his better angels won the day. And instead, he just reached up to squeeze at the top of Kaiba’s insanely tense shoulders, around the point where they met his neck. “Jeez, this feels more like bones than muscles.”

Kaiba didn’t have a witty rejoinder, and with another breathy exhale it was clear his brain was reduced to mush anyway.

“You’re always too fucking stressed,” Joey said, mostly to himself, his hands venturing lower once again. His left thumb found another knot just below Kaiba’s unnecessarily sculpted shoulder blade.

The muffled response emanating from the pillow sounded a lot like “I know,” but Joey decided it was probably something a few shades meaner. Maybe some comment about how that wasn’t news.

Kaiba’s skin felt amazing under Joey’s hands. It was just like he remembered—jarringly soft and warm, laced with scars that Joey still lacked the full detail on. Joey’s warm hands continued to explore lower, reaching toward the bottom of Kaiba’s spine. At the contact, Kaiba practically yelped.

“Oh, shit, did that hurt?” Joey asked, quickly removing his hands.

“It’s fine,” Kaiba said, lifting his head from the pillow.

Joey rested his hand over the critical area. “It’s alright. I can go gentle.”

“I said it’s fine.” Kaiba grumbled.

“I don’t want to hurt you! It’s supposed to feel nice.” Joey ran his hand back over the offending area, the skin trembling under his touch.

“Do what you want,” Kaiba said with a resolved huff, dropping his head into the pillow. Joey wondered exactly what his ex-husband thought he was accomplishing by being such an ass.

“Why can’t you just be easy to…” Joey let his voice trail off as he focused on soothing the sore spot, before moving higher on his partner’s back. “…take care of,” Joey finished.

After a few minutes of silence, Joey touched a familiar spot. Kaiba’s sigh into the pillow was a bit of a relief from the tension, and Joey swirled his thumb into the tense muscle.

Joey ghosted his hand along a raised white line that spanned Kaiba’s back from one shoulder to the other. “It doesn’t look like you’ve kept up with the scar cream. They haven’t improved since the last time I saw these,” Joey said, trying to sound casual. In reality, it was somewhat disturbing to him. Kaiba’s whole “unaffected” act had been pretty persuasive. 

That moment when Joey spotted him in the airport, looking so untouched by time and hardship, so unperturbed by their dissolution, had crystalized everything that Joey had feared. That none of their relationship had stuck to Kaiba in the least, none of it had mattered. But as the days had passed—and even today, when Joey was able to spend some time thinking, puzzling over his conversation the night before, it was clear. 

“I have not,” Kaiba admitted to the pillow. 

“I’m sure we’ve got some you left behind around here. Lemme go look for it,” Joey announced, leaving his position to look though the guest room’s bathroom. It didn’t take long for him to spot it, an unopened jar on a high shelf of the medicine cabinet.

Kaiba hadn’t moved from his position, facing down in the bed. When Joey’s footsteps got closer, Kaiba muttered, “You don’t have to do that.”

Kaiba couldn’t see it from his position, but Joey shrugged. “Naw, I don’t have to. But I might as well, since I’m already here.”

When they were married, it had been something of a post-shower ritual for Joey to help his husband with the scar cream. It was never all that effective, the cuts were too old, and the tissue had healed in a fairly gnarly way. But it felt like a nice way to address everything without having to talk about it. An unspoken source of healing—even if pretty futile.

It was also unbearably intimate, a fact that Joey had somewhat forgotten.

No one else was ever so intimate with Kaiba—and he certainly wouldn’t let anyone else near something so vulnerable. Even now, Joey was somewhat surprised that he had been allowed, running his finger over the raised skin. He was always as gentle as he could be, almost reverent, and he could hear the skimming of his thumbprint grazing his ex’s skin. 

Kaiba’s breathing had gone from intentional and deep inhales in response to the massage to a sort of shallowness, as if he was trying to keep his torso from moving and unsettling Joey. Joey drew his finger across an old gash towards the top of his back. 

Kaiba’s skin quivered under the cool cream, and it was almost overwhelming. Joey tried to finish the rest of them quickly, old feelings bubbling in his chest too strongly. The familiar smells and touches were too potent.

Kaiba’s breathing slowed even more, completely controlled, and he stopped shivering at the touches. 

“All done,” Joey announced, maybe too quickly, as he sealed the little jar and dismounted. He was a little sorry that it was already over. “If you need more help, just _ask_.” He added as he put the jar away. “And if you feel up to it, come and help me wrap stuff in… the bedroom.” It was so hard not to say _our bedroom_ , with Kaiba lying there, shirtless, vulnerable, still devastatingly beautiful. 

But Joey walked out anyway.

Kaiba didn’t understand a request that wasn’t a rejection. Everything was either negotiable or not—he couldn’t give an inch, even to save a mile. 

But it had hurt him. Somewhere, deep and integral to the very fabric of his partner… maybe everything had stuck.

. . .

Freshly chopped parsley, bay leaf, onion, and chicken swirled in the pot, the delicate aromas wafting up. The kids were busy coloring in pictures—Alexis perfectly within the lines, and Atticus with absolutely no regard for them.

The magic of chicken noodle soup seemed to drag Kaiba off his back and into the kitchen. Joey noticed he looked a little sad, and very tired. The echoes under his eyes were somehow more pronounced than they had been earlier in the day. He was also shockingly in sweat pants and one of Joey’s PTA t-shirts that had been though the wash so many times it was both incredibly soft and one pull away from turning itself into shreds. It hung somewhat loose around his waist, but damn… the man really could pull off anything.

“Need any help?” Kaiba asked, further confirming that the chicken noodle soup possessed some magical properties.

Joey handed over the celery and the knife, silently offering Kaiba the cutting board.

“You feeling better?” Joey asked, placing a tender hand on Kaiba’s lower back, where the pain had been. He could feel Seto lean into the embrace, electrifying Joey from within. The connection felt powerful, and for the first time in a very long time, Joey felt almost in synch with the man.

“Yes, thank you,” Kaiba said, with a crisp sort of politeness that added to the oddly warm encounter. The whole thing seemed a little precious, and part of a moment that should have belonged to another couple. Other people who’s lives hadn’t been tinged with sadness, and with so much loss and struggle.

For a few seconds, maybe, Kaiba really was giving Joey just what he wanted. Peace, attention, love.

Joey knew, from experience, that these things couldn’t last. 

But as Seto passed him a spoonful of promising chicken noodle soup, it seemed like maybe he could pretend. Just until Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was almost named "Painkiller" inspired by the Beach Bunny song (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LFco-KHX4lA&ab_channel=BeachBunny) I hope you can see why


	5. {{ December 24 :: Four Years Ago}}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four years ago, Christmas eve was devastating.

The pit at the bottom of Joey’s stomach had been aching for the last three days. It was like he swallowed hot coals and they refused to stay down, bile creeping up his throat every time he passed by that closed office door.

The house should have felt warmer—there must have been fifteen human bodies radiating energy and buzzing around the house. He’d been preparing in a way—a strange sort of supervisory role he hadn’t particularly desired—for the Architectural Digest spread on their house. Joey had been told that the article was going to place special attention on the picture perfect family that Seto Kaiba had accrued.

What a fascinating figure, the journalist had said, he must be a very interesting person to be married to.

Joey couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt _interested_ in the life he and the CEO had built. Instead the décor and ambiance of their home was so cold and so superficial, like Joey lived in a hotel. 

With such esteemed guests visiting on Christmas Eve, with such a paper trail of coverage, the administration of the Kaiba Estate had gone completely crazy. Joey couldn’t leave a glass of water on the counter and expect it to be there in an hour.

Even the kids were with a stylist this morning. It had seemed unfathomably frivolous and somehow also a bit duplicitous. Were they really trying to convince the readers of Architectural Digest that their children had an intuitive sense of fashion? Alexis was still not out of her terrible two’s, and the more layers of anything they draped over her, the greater the risk that they would trigger some sort of tantrum.

 _He’d deserve that_ , Joey thought, meanly. He had half a mind to interrupt Kaiba in his office and ask him that simple question: What are you trying to prove? Who could possibly care how Kaiba’s five-year-old son dressed? What their kitchen looked like? 

How well his husband was handling the spotlight?

If anyone really asked, he didn’t know what he would say. No one from this world ever really asked him how he was doing, not in that caring sincere way that real friends do, and so he lived half a life sometimes—the exterior half. The part that was supposed to be making cookies, and volunteering at the daycare even though the kids’ nannies were really more involved, and posting fun little videos on _Instagram_. He had his own publicist, and he wasn’t supposed to even do that without approval—he understood the reasons but it was like every drop of authenticity was drained… all that remained was the flawless artifice of a live lived perfectly. 

And the worst part was he was supposed to have an ally in all this. One person he was on the journey with.

But instead, Kaiba felt almost like a client. A person who had engaged him for husband and fathering services, who had certain specifications, certain resource allotments. 

There was a forcefield around the office door. 

Not a literal one, though Kaiba probably could have managed that if he had tried. It was decidedly low tech. Heavy mahogany, thick enough to withstand an explosion, and mysteriously devoid of the mistletoe and holly that had been draped over every inch of the house in an attempt to seem more festive and spirited than goddamn Martha Stewart.

The anger radiating out of the room must have been enough to keep the decorators far away.

Over the last year, Joey had been subjected to some updates about Kaiba Corp. affairs. They had just released a new phone model that incorporated holographic images for video chatting or something. The launch had been a success, Joey assumed, because everything that Kaiba touched in the marketplace turned to gold. Kaiba’s failures were few and far between, and his successes shined brightly enough that nothing bad seemed to stick.

The technology was supposed to be able to harness the capabilities that rendered Duel Monsters so realistically in Duel Disks, and use them connect people to distant loved ones with compelling holograms. It was a technical masterpiece that had him and Kaiba travelling cross country to attend industry awards and galas. It was exhausting, and half the time he felt like some sort of accessory. Like Kaiba’s personal assistant had flown in the right suit, the right watch, and Joey to complete the ensemble. 

It wasn’t like that the whole time. There was a period, really quite a long time at first, where it felt like a game. Joey’d try to smuggle food into venues that didn’t allow it or smuggle it out of galas for later, they’d conspiratorially make fun of other guests—especially mocking the ever-present Pegasus. Sometimes Joey would pull one of his old tricks—they’d graffiti a bathroom stall after defiling it or do some harmless property destruction at a fancy house. 

Weird nonsense too: who could steal the strangest object from the von Schroeder mansion, most absurd selfie with a world leader, that sort of thing. Little adventures that had wracked up a collection of items that they could never properly explain: Seto’s signed copy of Warren Buffet’s biography, crystal low ball glasses from Pegasus’ house that didn’t match the set that Seto already had, and a very strange cellphone photo of Joey holding the coat of the Prime Minister of Canada while the head of state was puking in a bush behind him.

It had been _fun_. It had been so fun. Once they had let their guard down around each other, they had found excellent playmates. Joey could be almost as devious as Kaiba under the right circumstances, and he was playful. And Kaiba was always gunning for a competition. A rivalry, any rivalry, any time. 

It was not like marrying his best friend, but it was like marrying his favorite co-conspirator.

But over time, something about the events had turned so routine that it was merely another part of Joey’s very draining job of trophy husband. And the snarky comments he was getting about the suit sizing from the stylist was the _last_ thing he needed. It just reminded him that he wasn’t a person to these people—he was an accessory, a decoration that could be trimmed and measured and posed _just so_ like all the tinsel in the house.

Even if Joey hadn’t been living and breathing the new technology by virtue of listening to his husband’s egotistical acceptance speeches every other weekend for a month, Joey had seen the advertisements that had polluted his social media streams and had threaded themselves in between videos. He’d even been featured in one—and he had to admit that hadn’t minded filming that—talking with a virtual Yugi, still bearing his King of Games title and the wild tri-colored hair, with his Duel Disk strapped to his arm and belt still wrapped around his neck. 

That had been fine, but several of the other ads were geared at families. And although Kaiba had for the most part kept the family out of the limelight, Joey’s publicist had been pushing harder for more of that humanizing presence.

“Everyone knows what your husband was like during ‘Battle City,’ and subsequent tournaments and product launches. He had a legend’s status and we could work with the ‘Rogue Genius’ sort of thing,” the publicist had kindly explained, his tone perhaps a touch demeaning. “But Kaiba Corporation isn’t just selling toys anymore. And people do not want to buy the most essential equipment of their lives from a rebellious teen. They want to see a man with integrity. With a _family_ , even an unorthodox one.”

Joey rolled his eyes at the last comment. 

They hadn’t built this family in order to sell more products, it had been so… organic. A natural expression of love. Being in their thirties, having so much love for each other that it made so much sense to share it with children. They could do it right this time. All they had to do was the opposite of what their parents had done.

And they had! Kaiba never raised his voice and Joey never picked a fight. It was everything they hadn’t had growing up. It was stable. Neat.

And it had become absolutely miserable. A set of formal relationships, scrupulously maintained and completely aesthetically flawless. And now, it was even a saleable commercial product.

Joey was so close to breaching the forcefield and getting the door open, but he could just hear the faint traces of a conference call behind the door.

The phantoms were trying to tell Kaiba something about some supply chain problem. Billions of dollars in contracts and products were flying back and forth in complex negotiations that rose to the level of international affairs.

Suddenly Joey’s problem—do the kids actually need a _stylist_ , Kaiba?—seemed unfathomably small. Heroically unimportant, embarrassingly trivial. 

Did he even want to walk into whatever shitstorm was going on in the study? Kaiba had his job, and Joey had his. 

The only difference was that people seemed to value Kaiba’s job, and Joey’s was increasingly shitty. 

Finally one of the maids—Joey thought she might even be in charge of that team, but was not technically the household manager, which was a different staff person—shook him from his frustrated position just outside of Kaiba’s study door. 

“They’re ready to start taking the pictures,” she said. It was so neutral, and Joey realized, a bit slowly, that she _didn’t like him_.

People usually liked him. If they didn’t, he probably had picked a fight with them or something. Anyone who spent real time with him couldn’t resist his signature Joey charm. _Maybe she’s new?_ Joey wondered. Or was he just… not the same anymore?

Within the same minute, the _children’s stylist_ beamed out of the playroom, with much the same announcement. She was all smiles—and who wouldn’t be with such a fun niche. They both looked at Joey.

The publicist was scaling the stairs, hand skimming the highly decorated banister and leaping over the twirls of pine leaves and luxurious red velvet ribbons, announcing that the Architectural Digest reporters were ready to begin.

Ah, it was time for him to do his job. The only thing that he was supposed to really do. Face his husband.

Joey could see why everyone else dreaded it so much. Why he was so _well-compensated_ for the task.

Joey extended his wrist, with a slow trepidation he had learned as a duelist, and tapped. 

Within seconds Kaiba was at the door, eyes all blue fire, like a lion interrupted during a feast of antelope gizzards.

“Eh, we’ve got the thing? The Architectural whatever thing?” Joey figured the posse of people gathered behind him made half of his point.

“Yes.” Kaiba said, clipped, and looking still slightly pissed.

“So uh, you good? You look good,” Joey gave him a once over, and was rewarded, as always with the handsome view of a perfectly put together Seto Kaiba.

Kaiba rewarded the compliment with a smirk. “Yes.”

And the whole team descended together, with two of the more intense nannies handling the children and joining at the back of the group.

When finally down the stairs, Alexis was passed into Joey’s arms, and Atticus was handed off to Kaiba. 

“How are your piano lessons going?” Kaiba asked Atticus, as if he was a colleague and not a five-year-old.

“Awesome!” Atticus answered with a smile. 

“Do you know any duets yet?”

“Twinkle Twinkle Little Star!” Atticus announced, pleased with himself.

Kaiba stood for a moment, as if wracking his brain for any memory of the song. Then he nodded. “We can start with that.”

The Architectural Digest reporter looked at Kaiba, having expected to have his full attention immediately. Indeed, the reporter looked like the kind of person who expected to have anyone’s attention at any time. Joey had spared the man a Google search at some point before the meeting, and he had been impressed by the guy’s list. He had done articles on the interior design aesthetic—and the corresponding family culture—of two sitting presidents, the prime ministers of both Austria and Australia, and Oprah _._ _Oprah._

He dressed like it too. His silk scarf was recognizably Hermes, and Joey could tell that his whole thing was how fancy people were expected to dress. Flashy and complicated and matching, but only sort of?

The stylist had intentionally been playing up the new, everyman qualities of the updated Kaiba family. It was a stark contrast to the Visual Kei inspired aesthetic that his partner used to wear, but honestly? Other than changing the t-shirt to cashmere and making the jeans cost about $400 more, Joey felt like he looked pretty much the same as he used to. His shoes were a lot less comfortable now.

The reporter almost raised a hand to interrupt, and Joey instinctually went on damage control.

“Hey, great to finally meet you! Welcome to our house. Looks like you’re in for a concert to start off!” Joey smiled warmly, and was pleased to see it mirrored in the reporter’s face.

“Your husband is an interesting fellow, huh?” The reporter had something of a pan-Atlantic accent to his voice, making him sound a little bit like he fell out of the Turner Classic Movies channel.

“You don’t know the half of it! But I’m sure he’ll warm up,” Joey lied. Joey reached forward to loop an arm around his husband’s shoulders as they continued to make their way toward the grand piano in the living room. “What are you doing?” he whispered in his ear.

Kaiba spared him a dark, sideways glance. “I am trying… to demonstrate human connection. That’s the instruction I received.”

Joey laughed, though it wasn’t easy. “Well, could you smile or something? Introduce yourself? It looks disjointed like this, I think.”

Kaiba’s attention diverted, announcing that the conversation was over. Joey withdrew, his speaking time already terminated.

But the comment made enough of an impact. When they arrived in the living room, which had been festooned with just about every wintry icon available in the tri-state area—including a row of pinecones and decorative wreathing along the piano and the biggest tree that could fit in the tall space jammed with more lights and baubles than should be possible—Kaiba deigned to greet the guest. 

Kaiba gestured to the piano, and Atticus happily plopped down. Kaiba joined him, much more calmly. “Now, for a rendition of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,” Kaiba announced, rolling back the fallboard.

Atticus nodded mutely. Someone had clearly drilled into him the importance of not saying anything weird, and he had interpreted it as not saying anything at all. 

Kaiba began the initial keystrokes of the song, only for Atticuls to slam both of his hands down on the keys and completely startle him.

Kaiba instantly stopped playing, but Atticus kept going cubby child fingers on random keys.

“Do you… actually know how to play the song,” Kaiba asked, as Atticus started winding down.

Atticus beamed, “Yeah Oto-san, but this is a special Christmas remix!”

Kaiba smiled softly, shockingly genuine, and Joey was sure the cameras captured it. “Very well.” Kaiba diverted his attention away from the piano. “Now that we have performed a Christmas remix, I suppose we may as well continue with the interview.”

The reporter seemed to be in good humor, eyes energic as they tracked Kaiba and Atticus back to the couch to join Joey and Alexis.

Like a flip had been switched, Kaiba acted like he had a human interest in the whole situation, but let Joey do most of the talking.

Joey thought maybe he was nervous. He was so comfortable when the topic turned to the impact of Kaiba Corp., on international growth this or technology development that. But sitting there, on a couch laden with thick green and red ribbon, being asked about how he balanced raising children with being in the office, he looked almost nauseated. 

“I have a great partner,” Kaiba said, robotic and dead-eyed. “And great help. I could not do it alone.”

Joey tried to beam, but it felt like a brutally minimizing note. 

A great partner? It was a performance review, not a term of affection.

After the interview finally ended and the additional staff began to disperse, Joey found himself trailing Kaiba back to his study. The kids were whisked away—Atticus already had another piano lesson and Alexis was due in the ballet studio. She had made the cut as one of the youngest among the 130 children to participate in the New York City Ballet Company production of Nutcracker, scoring a prestigious position as one of the angels. It was very impressive and very cute, but it felt a bit odd to watch the two-and-change-year-old have so many appointments. She just spun around a little… Joey had to assume it was another instance of her name opening doors. But it was adorable, and she was a pretty serious toddler, and who was he to get in the way of high performance. 

She said she liked it, as much as a two-year-old can articulate that they like anything, and he didn’t want to burst anyone’s bubble.

So, after everyone had scattered, it was just Kaiba in his study, and Joey feeling empty.

Joey knocked on the door. When he didn’t get a response, he opened it anyway.

“What?” Kaiba snapped, not looking away from his laptop.

“I…” Joey thought about what he wanted to say, but nothing came to mind immediately, except for the simple truth. “I can’t handle this.”

Kaiba didn’t look up. “You can’t handle what? Talking to a guy for an hour? You did nothing.”

When Joey didn’t immediately leave, Kaiba paused in his typing, maybe realizing that he couldn’t really account for what had happened prior to his entrance. “Do you need more help?”

Joey sank into the companion chair in the study. “I mean no, I think there’s probably too much staff. Do the kids really need a stylist?”

Kaiba looked up. “I am so busy, Jounouchi. Do you really want to debate the merits of having someone pick the children’s clothes for a photoshoot? That cannot possibly be the best use of your time, and I know it’s not the best use of mine.”

Joey met his eyes for a second, but lost his determination. “I just… I miss how it was. Things didn’t used to be like this, right?”

Kaiba sighed. “Things have always been like this. What do you mean?”

“You know what, never mind. It’s fine. It’s just, I guess it’s Christmas eve.” Kaiba didn’t acknowledge the statement, leaving Joey feeling more alone than he had in years. “We’re supposed to do family stuff.”

Kaiba went back to his computer. “We _did._ And I’m sure more is scheduled for tomorrow—I know that I’m scheduled to attend one of Alexis’ performances tomorrow. You should check your calendar, I am sure we have a dinner scheduled somewhere tonight… I think at the Governor’s estate. You should check with someone about the required attire. But not _me_ , Jounouchi, I really am busy.” The chilling blue eyes didn’t even follow Joey as he stalked out of the room.

Joey didn’t say it—he couldn’t find the will to say it yet, and he didn’t say it for another year. But in that moment, Joey knew that their marriage was over.


	6. {{ December 24 :: Present Day}}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Eve is a lot more pleasurable this year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating increased to Explicit for smut this chapter. If you would like to skip it, end the chapter at the grilled cheese.

When Joey rolled over to look at his cellphone, he was startled to see it was almost 10:30 am. How did he sleep in, until mid-morning, on Christmas Eve? It was impossible that the kids hadn’t awoken with the dawn, and absolutely impossible that they didn’t need some form of attention by now.

 _Maybe they’ve been kidnapped_ , Joey wondered to himself. That would be just his luck—the second Kaiba’s back, loved ones get kidnapped. 

He looked out the French doors that lead to the master bedroom’s balcony. It wasn’t a bad view at all, and the snow was wafting down. It was soft, fluffy, powdery stuff, already accumulating on the handrail of the deck. Joey considered fighting the temptation to wander out, but decided to just take a peek outside.

He was instantly rewarded with the sight of Alexis braining Atticus with a snowball.

They were dressed warmly, if a bit mismatching. From the bright red glove on one of Atticus’ hands, and the black mitten on the other, someone wasn’t able to find the right counterpart in time. 

That someone was looming a bit off to the side, like he always did. Kaiba was crouching in the snow too, busy at work making _something_. Joey couldn’t tell at this distance, and it would be pretty harsh of him to join in the snowball fight. Joey knew from experience that Kaiba didn’t half-ass snowball fights and had killer aim. 

Joey had only managed to keep up because he thought shoving snow down the back of Kaiba’s shirt was the funniest thing in the world. The full body shiver and searing rage it inspired were unparalleled.

Instead, today it looked more like he was on hand to intervene if Alexis got too invested and owned her older brother too hard. And like he was doing something of his own, playing with the snow. 

_Was Seto Kaiba building a snow man?_ Joey squinted, but the white snow was too bright and the packed snow was too indistinguishable from the freshly fallen drifts for him to actually be able to tell.

Joey felt some snowflakes collecting in his own fluffy hair, and with a shake of his head decided he could do a better job spectating from downstairs.

A latte was sitting on the kitchen counter. The foam had somewhat disintegrated, melting back into the coffee and milk mixture. At first, Joey assumed Kaiba had just left it behind for himself when he had been probably unceremoniously dragged into the falling snow by their little miscreants.

But upon close inspection, the foam had a sort of heart pattern on the top, made from pouring the steamed milk just so. Latte art had been an interest of Kaiba’s for about a day several years back—he had been convinced that he could replicate the delicate pouring in a robotic attachment added to the espresso machine, which could be repurposed to replace certain precision work in the Duel Disk manufacturing line. In the process, he had gotten very good at making them by hand as well. 

Could the mug actually be for Joey? It didn’t look like Kaiba had sipped from it.

Kaiba was probably just showing off to the kids, Joey thought to himself. Even so, it melted his heart in his chest just a little bit. Even if it wasn’t for him, Joey was going to taste it. It was on Joey’s counter now, right?

The milk foam was soft against his lips, sweet little bubbles popping on his tongue as he sipped, and the coffee was still warm. He could feel the heat of it course down his throat. 

He took another long drink of it, and it really was that good. If Kaiba had a love language, Joey pondered midway through another gulp, it probably would be fancy coffee.

Joey took the mug out with him, the warmth of the mug soothing in his hands as he wandered to the backyard. The chill in the air hit him in the face, instantly, and he wished he was wearing more than night clothes, his bathrobe, and slippers.

The family hadn’t really moved since he’d seen them from the master bedroom balcony. 

Watching Seto play was always a source of fascination. Sure, it had been infuriating back in the day. The seriousness and anger he took to Duel Monsters, even when it wasn’t him dueling, was unpleasant at the time. But over the years, it had become endearing and intriguing. Sometimes, early on, Joey would even sit near Kaiba, during Yugi’s duels especially, just to hear the commentary. Kaiba was thoughtful and smart as hell, and his take on the game was as insightful as it was overly intense.

When Kaiba played other games, it was even more fun. Before they had met, Joey had never fathomed that someone could be completely engrossed in Operation!, or bring complete vitriol to Connect Four. Discovering that Guess Who could be played through carefully crafted insults to each figure’s appearance was delightful. 

It had been one of the things Joey had kind of been looking forward to seeing in Kaiba when they had kids.

But… things don’t always pan out the way you want them to.

Joey took another sip from the coffee—Kaiba had put some sugar in it too, to Joey’s surprise. It had to be for him. Just that thought lit a spark in his chest that warmed him in a way that his bathrobe and flannel pajamas couldn’t.

Joey refocused on Kaiba, trying to discern exactly what the other man was doing in the snow. He was almost on his knees in the snow, and using his black-gloved hands to shape something. The packed snow was rather elegantly shaped, and even if it had been years since he had seen one in person, those white scales were incredibly iconic.

“Ay, Kaiba, is that?!”

With a finishing touch of black pebble eyes on the modestly-sized snow-dragon, Kaiba turned to face him dead-on.

Kaiba’s smirk was almost as haughty as it had been when he was a teen. He stood proudly in his winter coat, hands on his hips before the three-foot snow-dragon and pointed back at Joey with a flourish. “Attack with white lightning!”

Like magic, the kids turned on Joey. Snowballs were launched in his general direction and the kids made what Joey assumed were supposed to be dragon noises.

Joey was fortunate—the deck was pretty far from where they were playing, and the snowballs exploded harmlessly on the bannister or the porch in front of him. Alexis’s little screech was especially precious, even if her throw wasn’t.

Joey laughed so naturally that he didn’t realize he was doing it. When he composed himself again, he dramatically raised one hand, and pointed back. “I play my trap card,” Joey shouted into the fray, revolving enough to point at the kitchen behind him. “I’m making pancakes!”

Indeed, the promise of pancakes was more powerful than the lure of pretending to be dragons, and the kids cheered as they headed in.

Kaiba trailed the kids, looking oddly contemplative. Joey was about to leave and make good on his promise, but he was struck by the way Seto had his lips pressed together. He really looked like he was trying not to say something.

Joey gave him an expectant look, the space to say whatever it was that he was thinking.

“I never knew it could be this way.”

Joey tilted his head, blond hair flopping to the side. “What do you mean?”

Kaiba walked closer, within a few inches of Joey. With his thumb, Kaiba brushed a few snowflakes from the shorter man’s cheek. “I… didn’t realize that life could be this free.” And without any other comment or discussion, Kaiba composed himself and brushed past Joey. Leaving Joey with his now-chilly latte and distant thoughts. 

…

Time slipped by quickly, the sands of the holiday magic hourglass rushing down as the finale approached. 

The family had a holographic call with Mokuba and Yui, who expressed again how grateful they were to have the kids at their wedding. If Mokuba was surprised to see Joey and Kaiba alongside each other, not fighting, he didn’t show it. 

After three years away from the high technology, Joey kind of saw the appeal of the holograms with fresh eyes. It was pretty neat to see Mokuba again, in three dimensions, glowing just a little in his living room. While Mokuba was patiently listening to Atticus explain how they were playing dragons this morning, Joey was just taking it in. 

Then they sat down for another round of Christmas movies—this time all the classics. First was _Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer_ , which Kaiba insisted had an overly mature message, that being unique is respected only when someone else can profit off of it. Then was _Frosty the Snowman_ , which Kaiba objected to on the grounds that it sent mixed messages about mortality. “It is like watching ‘All Dogs Go to Heaven’ if you actually had to watch the dog—”

“Kaiba, it’s fine, he’s a snowman.” Joey interrupted.

“He’s clearly sentient. He’s aware of his surroundings. Do you think he cannot feel his body melt—”

“Next movie!” Joey announced, clicking away. 

Kaiba completely left the room for _Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer_ , which was a pity, given how much of the runtime was dedicated to business decisions.

Kaiba only returned later, to poke his head around the corner and say that he had finished making dinner.

Joey wasn’t sure what to expect from Kaiba for a holiday dinner. Frankly, the times he had seen Kaiba cook were few and far between—he had helped out yesterday, but otherwise it was something of an informed ability. Kaiba said he could cook, but Joey supposed the proof would be in the literal pudding.

When they were dating, Kaiba was usually working and they would get take out or go out to dinner far more frequently than doing dinner at home. Joey couldn’t pinpoint exactly when the expectation of family meals had appeared—maybe after Atticus was born? Whenever it had happened, the family chef had appeared like magic. 

Joey realized that maybe Kaiba had no idea what Joey’s cooking was like outside of this week either. That was a disturbing thought. How long could you spend with someone without ever learning what their cooking tasted like.

Joey was in for a pleasant surprise. It certainly wasn’t fancy, but tomato soup from a can—garnished with a basil leaf—and a decent stack of not-burnt grilled cheese sandwiches were waiting. With the snow falling gently outside, and the reflection of a few twinkling Christmas lights draped around the kitchen, it was a very pleasant scene.

It felt like too much to demand, but Joey bit into a perfectly buttery sandwich—crispy on the outside and gooey on the inside—and thought maybe he would like it if Kaiba cooked every night.

…

Finally, the kids were instructed that they needed to have an early bed time, as part of the last ditch efforts to convince Santa that they were good kids. 

With certain designated cookies set out and carrots left for the reindeer, the kids were headed to bed.

“So… we didn’t wrap the presents last night,” Joey announced. Kaiba nodded, and they grimly turned toward the master bedroom to contemplate their fate.

The present pile was absolutely _not_ representative of what Joey had purchased on his singular trip to the mall. At some point, quite deviously, Kaiba must have procured another thirty presents, through some assistant or something—Joey really could account for most of the time, and had them hidden in Joey’s secret present hiding place (unsurprisingly the master bedroom’s closet).

As a result, even with the two of them working to wrap presents, it had been almost three hours and they were still at it. Kaiba was frustratingly slow: he was both meticulous about straight edges and perfect tape amounts, and just slightly terrible at wrapping. It was brutally obvious he had never had to do it before, so even though the theory was easy for him, his long fingers struggled slightly with execution. It made the process even slower because Joey kept getting distracted, watching Kaiba’s long fingers fiddle with the paper and the tape.

“We can take a five minute break, we’ve been pretty busy this week,” Joey announced, stepping away from the supplies covered desk and flopping back on the bed.

Seto walked over and sat on the edge of pensively before curling into the fluffy duvet. “It’s true. Whatever doesn’t get wrapped can be saved for birthday presents.”

Joey graced him with a skeptical look.

“What?! You said you wanted it to be lower key,” Kaiba snapped back, offended. Kaiba looked down at his hands, tape resting on his pinky as he tried to get the fold _just so_ on a small packet that was obviously a Duel Monsters cards booster pack.

The bags that were omnipresent under Kaiba’s eyes were etched just a little deeper than before. “A five minute break… sounds wise.”

Joey flopped backward onto the bed, avoiding the wrapping paper. Kaiba relaxed backwards as well. 

Five minutes passed, and then another five. The bed was really soft and cozy. Joey knew it was much more comfortable than the guest room bed, and Kaiba was burrowing in somewhat. 

The other man really did look peaceful, brown hair falling into his glasses, eyes finally closed and relaxed.

Two hours later, a quick glance at the bedside clock warned Joey that it was almost eleven at night. The lights had been extinguished, but the curtains hadn’t been drawn, leaving the room with a hazy glow from the bright snowscape and moon beyond the French doors.

Joey had dozed off on the bed and like magnets, Seto had ended up _so_ close to him. Joey really hadn’t expected to wake up to the other man clinging to him for dear life, but it felt so nice. A pleasant weight, holding him, making him feel treasured. God only knew where his glasses had ended up.

Seto’s breath ghosted across Joey’s collarbone. “I missed you.” It was soft, sleep addled, and entirely sincere. His breaths were deep and warm, as if he was taking in everything about the situation that he could, inhaling the sleepy cozy scent of his partner, the soft detergent smell the dryer had left on Joey’s pajamas, the pine scented holiday candle that had been inadvertently left to burn for the last two hours.

Cuddling again felt so magical, after so long. Joey’s hand caught in Seto’s hair, soft brown strands running across his rougher fingers. His nails scraped lightly across Seto’s scalp, and Seto practically purred. It was enough to make the heat rise in Joey’s cheeks.

“I don’t want to let go of you,” Seto admitted to Joey. Seto looked up from where he was snuggled into Joey’s chest, eyes softer than Joey remembered them.

“Then don’t,” Joey answered, pulling Seto up so that their faces were perfectly aligned.

Staring into Kaiba’s eyes was always like this. It hit so deep, struck Joey right on the inside of his sternum. Something in the blue depths broke his heart every single time.

And Joey pulled him into a kiss. Seto’s mouth tasted the way that it always had. With his large hands grabbing at Joey’s back, clutching at the fabric, it felt the same way that it did before. When Seto deepened the kiss, when his tongue plunged into his mouth, nothing had changed.

But Seto pulled away, marking that Joey hadn’t truly time traveled. “I… are you sure you want to do this? I’m leaving tomorrow, Jounouchi.” Seto was so serious. The flush in his cheeks was just painted onto his ex-husband, the rest of his face was schooled into a business-like countenance. It almost made Joey forget the familiar hand on his hip, thumb stroking over his side.

Joey smiled, but he could feel the pinpricks behind his own eyes. “Then you better not ruin tonight, huh?”

Kaiba smirked, falling back into his role. “As you should well know,” Kaiba dived into Joey’s neck, sucking and biting something fierce, “I always rise to a challenge.”

Kaiba’s hand drifted up, grasping for Joey’s shirt and tearing it off. “If I remember correctly,” Kaiba continued, crawling down his body and quickly arriving at his cock, “and I always do,” Kaiba’s eyes flashed up to meet Joey’s, devious and dirty be fore pulling down Joey’s pajama pants, exposing his dick to the tense air of their bedroom, “I have some reliable methods for ensuring this is worth your time.”

“You talk too—” Joey attempted to complain, but Kaiba’s mouth on his hardening penis cut him off. A shock of lust zapped through is body, reaching the ache in his chest.

As Seto sucked gently—cheeks hollow and eyes closed in focus, Joey felt the lust course through him. But also a sense of comfort, of safety, and of loss. Each jolt of pleasure also triggered something cruel and bittersweet. 

Joey tried to hold off, knowing that the sooner he came, the sooner it would end. The fantasy of having his husband back, adoring him in the most intimate way, would be over, even as the pangs of pleasure rippled through him.

But it was hard. Kaiba was an obsessive man, and when pleasuring Joey was his focus, he was meticulous in mastering its intricacies. One of Kaiba’s hands was caressing his inner thigh, alternating worshipful touches and soft, stinging scratches that dragged needy whines from Joey’s lips. 

Just when Joey was certain he wouldn’t be able to hold on for any longer, the pressure building inside, threatening to spill out, Kaiba disengaged. A bit of pre-cum mixed with spit bridged between his plush lips and Joey’s rock hard cock. The light glinted off of the dew on Kaiba’s mouth, and accentuated the way that his lips were trembling.

Kaiba slid up, rolling over far enough to reach the top drawer of the night stand. And, just as if no time had passed, a bottle of lube was waiting for him. Joey’s eyes lingered on the way Kaiba poured it along his hands, leaving them glistening in the reflection of the moonlight off of the freshly fallen snow. 

Kaiba removed his own sweatpants, and Joey’s eyes could see how devastatingly hard Kaiba was. The full body shiver that ran through him just touching himself in order to lube his own cock. And when he looked back over at Joey, the determination in his eyes was so intense, it was almost scary.

Kaiba crawled over, hands framing Joey’s head, heat radiating off of his body in hot waves, cocks threatening to touch. “I want you so bad, Jounouchi,” he whispered, voice husky from sucking him off.

“Then take me, Kaiba. You never had a problem taking what you want before,” Joey issued the challenge with a hint more menace than he had realized was there.

And the restraint was lifted. Joey hadn’t really realized there ever was any restraint, but with Kaiba’s fingers plunged into his tight opening, searching and quickly finding the familiar magic spot, maybe his partner had been holding back.

With only so many desperate thrusts of his fingers, Kaiba withdrew them. Joey almost moaned at the loss, wanting to tell his partner there was no rush. That they had enough time for everything, make love like they used to—languid and peaceful, wasteful of time.

Any complaints were silenced as he felt Kaiba’s thick cock enter him. Joey was lost in the sensations, swimming in the lust. The only things he could keep track of were the thrusts, the feeling of Seto’s hips and thighs rhythmically moving against his own. The white hot pulse of Kaiba coming inside of him, and that perfect moment, when he felt full and complete. Finally coming himself, untouched, semen spilling over his own stomach.

Even though it was sticky, and would soon be uncomfortable, he hated when Kaiba withdrew. His heart ached when he handed him a damp towel from the in suite, and when Kaiba gathered his pajamas, prepared to walk to the guest room. 

Joey had to go back in his memory all the way to their earliest days to remember Kaiba getting up immediately after sex. Once their relationship was, well, a relationship and not a duel to see who could keep the connection more casual, Kaiba loved to be close afterwards. Even if he didn’t necessarily snuggle, he was usually present, sharing small smiles and holding Joey until he fell asleep.

“Don’t.”

Kaiba froze. And then he looked back, more surprised than he should have been. 

The look on his face sent Joey to the early days of their courtship, when Kaiba would wear that same expression as he gathered up arm-belts as he bailed from Joey’s shit apartment back in Domino. 

But that they had shared this exact bedroom for six years. 

Joey hadn’t even changed up the pictures on the walls—shamefully enough, a wedding photo still sat on the dresser. Their trapped smiling faces judging the messy entanglement that their romance had become.

“Don’t leave me,” Joey choked out. _Don’t leave me again_ went unspoken. He didn’t have that bad of a time saying how he felt, but Kaiba always tested the limits, made him want to withdraw into himself. It took some kind of bravery to be open with his feelings now, and it swelled in his chest. “I want you to stay the night, here.” 

Kaiba nodded slowly, and dressed in his pajamas. He sat down on the bed carefully, cautious, like he hadn’t slept there a thousand times before. It almost seemed like he didn’t trust the mattress not to turn to dust beneath him.

And then he laid in bed like a corpse in a coffin, careful to bind his arms to his waist. 

With a deep sigh, Joey said, “Ah come on. We just fucked, Kaiba. You can uh… you can touch me, if you wanna.”

Kaiba looked over. In the darkness, the glow of the moon-touched snow glinted in his eyes, sparking something mysterious. “We… did.” He looked a little bit like a cryptid, something not quite of this world, trapped in a reality he couldn’t totally understand.

“I don’t regret it,” Joey said, though his voice betrayed a bit of his uncertainty. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Hn.” Kaiba scoffed.

“Yeah, I shoulda seen that one coming,” Joey said, leaning back against his pillow. It was somehow entirely foreign to have another man in his bed, and yet also familiar. Like Kaiba had never been there before, but also like he had never left.

The warmth was almost that of a phantom sensation—almost close enough to touch, just far enough away to feel like a figment of his imagination.

And then, somewhat suddenly, Joey felt the familiar hands of his ex-husband wrap around his arm. Just like that, Kaiba crept back into his space, foreheads almost touching, straight brown hair entangling in unruly blond strands. Joey could feel each exhale of Kaiba’s against his cheek. They were soft and rhythmic, pantomiming sleep.

Joey was surprised when he didn’t tense up at the contact. When they both melted into the shared cozy warmth under the quilt. When his own breathing turned more evenly paced.

He was falling asleep in that most literal sense, the experience of complete relaxation where one sinks through the mattress and into the dream world.

Somewhere in that sinking, the purgatory between sleeping and wakefulness, Joey could have sworn he heard Kaiba whisper “I still love you” in his gravelly tone.

But it could have been just a dream.


	7. {{ December 25 }}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Day.

Joey was rudely awakened by the thump of his entire son against his chest. Aforementioned son was practically vibrating as he and his sister continued their complete attack, disrupting the significant quantity of pillows around. The duvet was bouncing from the combined child-energy.

“It’s Christmaaaaaassss!!!” Atticus shouted before burying his head in a pillow.

Kaiba loomed in the doorway, sipping from a branded mug with a smug look on his face as Joey tried to calm the chaos that was Alexis jumping up and down on their bed. Kaiba was already dressed for the day in yet another black turtleneck, and was completely devoid of any festive costume. 

_Shit_ , Joey thought. Half the presents weren’t wrapped and should be on full display on his desk… None of them had been placed under the tree when he and Kaiba had gotten distracted and…

“Shall we see if Santa visited?” Kaiba offered. Joey leveled a frustrated glare before his eyes managed to fix on the desk in the room which was… devoid of any trace. The wrapping paper and remaining presents were gone. Even the tape had been restored to its position in the caddy.

It was enough for Joey to believe, for a second, in Christmas magic.

The kids accepted their victory gracefully, scampering from the bed to the stairs and rushing down towards the stockings and the tree.

“Did you…” Joey asked, morning grogginess still sticking to him like sweet molasses.

Kaiba tossed Joey’s bathrobe onto the bed, and smirked into his mug as he stalked out.

The tree was illuminated and so thoroughly surrounded by presents, the kids couldn’t get within a three-foot radius of the base of the tree. Still, like monsters, they ripped through the presents with alarming speed. A hurricane of wrapping paper flew across the living room—with no regard for the delicate job of some of them, or the pretty fluffy bows affixed to the gifts.

“A yo-yo?!” Atticus announced, unwrapping a box containing a competition grade yo-yo. Joey looked on in horror as Kaiba’s smile grew more devious. “The string isn’t even on?!” 

Atticus handed it to Joey, intuitively knowing that it wasn’t the sort of thing Kaiba was going to respond to.

Joey’s face blanched at the weight of the device in his hand. Like everything else that had happened that week, it was intimately familiar, buried deep in the recesses of his memory, and slightly nausea-inducing. 

It was a high quality yo-yo, matte jet black and from the feel of it in his hand, the ball bearings were perfectly aligned. The crimson string was just waiting to be looped on, which Joey expertly did—carefully unwinding the twists enough to slip them over the yo-yo. And then, balancing the yo-yo on the string, he rewound the yo-yo by sliding it along the thread. 

In his mind, the process took forever, even if only a few seconds had passed.

“Thanks Dad!” Atticus chirped, retrieving the yo-yo from his hand to begin playing with it.

Joey slowly returned to the present, where Kaiba commented, “You should ask your dad to some you some tricks.”

Eventually they had shredded all of the wrappings and the kids were completely occupied with their gifts. Alexis was tearing open the booster packs and struggling her way through the more complex words on some of the cards. Atticus had his deck out, too, and he leaned over her shoulder and explained some of the text and card effects patiently.

Joey glanced over at Kaiba, who was smiling the same smile from Mokuba’s wedding photos. 

“Remembering what it was like to be a big brother?” Joey prodded.

Kaiba nodded. “Things were rarely this peaceful, but when they were… I did not always know how to appreciate it.”

Joey reached a hand to Kaiba’s back and stroked over the soft cashmere of the black turtleneck reassuringly. “I wish things had been different too.” And Joey leaned his head onto Kaiba’s shoulder. “But they’re pretty good right now, huh?”

Kaiba nodded, hair shifting against Joey’s.

Atticus fired up the latest model of the Duel Disk, and the hologram took over half of the room, consuming the Christmas tree and the better part of his sister, who screamed.

Kaiba and Joey were on their feet in an instant—Kaiba showing Atticus how to adjust the settings on the Duel Disk and Joey to rescue Alexis from the belly of a dragon.

. . .

As Kaiba flipped a chocolate chip pancake, he spared a quick glance to a shiny Rolex watch. Another one of the treasures that Kaiba had left behind years ago, and Joey hadn’t had the nerve to mail back or pawn off.

“What time will your sister be coming by?” 

The question was said in an innocent tone of voice, overshadowed by the sizzle of the pancake against the cast iron. But Joey knew what it meant—the timer on their holiday magic was running low. 

The snow of the snow globe was settling on the fantasy of a happy family. Joey would have to either shake it up again or accept that time had sucked out the hope, like glitter and plastic pooling at the bottom.

Kaiba would do anything to avoid having to face Joey’s sister. Even after moving to New York, Joey’s mother was not really a part of his life due to a mixture of built up resentment and a genuine lack of connection. But Serenity was a frequent visitor, and a huge source of love and support—especially during and after the divorce.

As much as it bothered Joey, Kaiba was probably right to try to avoid her. Serenity wasn’t very pleased with Kaiba after the divorce—or before it—and frankly it was a reasonable act of self-preservation to try and dodge. Joey considered lying, trapping Kaiba right there, letting Serenity lay into him. 

Anything to make him stay a little longer. 

But Joey had grown into an honest man, unfortunately for him, and he answered with the truth: “She gets off shift at noon.”

Kaiba nodded, plating up the pancakes. There was something a little magic to seeing Kaiba in the apron, making breakfast. Joey thought he might be getting used to the sight of Kaiba, surrounded by ingredients, carefully putting together meals. 

Joey was inclined to agree with Mokuba, Kaiba was pretty good at the staples. It’s hard to go wrong with chocolate chip pancakes, but sometimes the chips can get too burnt, and the chocolate chips can get stuck to the pan.

Atticus and Alexis seemed to share the sentiment, as Kaiba continued to flip pancakes for another forty-five minutes to make enough for the family.

Just as Kaiba sat down to his own pancake, his eyes darted away.

Kaiba had a preternatural sense for trouble, honed through the nonstop turmoil of his youth. Like Spiderman’s extra-sensory perception, Kaiba stared at his untouched breakfast plate and immediately announced, “I’ve got to go,” popping up from the breakfast table. 

He didn’t seem to have much packed up, other than a briefcase with his work laptop. Joey wondered if he was going to keep leaving all of the other shit here. The traces of Kaiba that the other man hadn’t managed to take back with him, the books, the whiskey, the scar cream, the turtlenecks…

Reminders that Kaiba was here, little touches of his ghost clinging to the bookcase, the end tables, the closets. Just like dust, Kaiba had settled into the hard-to-reach crevices of his life.

Joey feigned ignorance. “What?” he asked, “It’s still Christmas.” As if he didn’t know that whatever magic they had between them had to disappear before another adult saw. The great Seto Kaiba learning and growing? No outsiders were allowed to see a travesty like that.

The man was already headed to the door, and Joey had to pursue him. Serenity’s car was visible from the front hallway. She had gotten off shift about a half an hour ago, and had made a beeline for the family home.

“As far as the children are concerned, the main events of the holiday have concluded.” Kaiba pulled out the Mercedes keys. He had obviously been thinking about his getaway. The schemer.

“That doesn’t mean you have to go now,” Joey positioned himself between Kaiba and the door.

“Don’t.” Kaiba said it like a warning, low and serious. There was a note in his voice that was too harsh.

The entire week had felt like he had been rifling through different versions of Kaiba. The savage man he used to know, the love of his life, the impermeable shadow who lurked in his study, the father of _his_ kids.

Now, once again, Joey was facing the most intense version of Kaiba—determined, cornered, cruel.

“Come on, it doesn’t have to be, you can just…” Joey didn’t know what to say, but he did spread his arms out, making a better barrier between his ex-husband and the exit.

Kaiba bowed his head, more threatening, more looming. “I don’t know what this is, you don’t know what this is. It’s not fair to the children to have us… so undetermined. Unstable. Whatever this armistice was, it was above all _temporary_.”

Joey was never that easily cowed. “I don’t remember having that conversation?!” He spat back.

Kaiba stood taller again, reaching past Joey to undo the deadbolt. “Can you, for once, not make this harder for me than it has to be?”

Joey hesitated. Maybe Kaiba was right, maybe this was too unstable. Maybe it just wasn’t fair to the kids. Darting back and forth from a loving family to practically strangers. From the soreness in his chest, the anxiety he felt at the thought that Kaiba would vanish from his life again—all that presence, gone in a flash—he knew it wasn’t fair to himself to play the game either.

“If you really want to go that bad, I won’t stop you,” Joey said, finally. 

Kaiba passed by Serenity in the driveway. She wished him a Merry Christmas but he just kept walking. 

. . .

“You did _what_?!” Serenity choked on her eggnog. They were watching Atticus and Alexis duel in the snow, holograms bouncing and leaping through the wintry landscape. The snowflakes disappeared as soon as the reached the holograms, hidden by the solidvision programming.

Joey remembered, somewhat, when Kaiba was first trying to get the software to play nice with foreign particles. And Joey hated that he was impressed with the result.

“Look, he as here for a week and… he’s different. I really think he, y’know, he got it. He understood what he was missing,” Joey said, more into his own eggnog than to his sister.

She shook her head. “I saw him, he didn’t seem all that different to me,” she paused to sip her eggnog. “But that’s none of my business.”

“That was… he’s not great with…” Joey could hear himself, hear the excuses rolling off of his tongue. He hated being in the position of defending the other man’s frustrating decisions and bad attitude. 

She put her hand on his shoulder. “I get it. I’ve know him a long time, right? I get that he can be… I don’t know, he has to be warmer with you, right?” 

Joey nodded, realizing that tears were pooling in his eyes, the beautiful snowy backyard dissolving into a soft watery mess.

“But I also know he’s driving to the airport now. And I highly doubt Seto Kaiba waits on the tarmac for long. If you’ve got something to say to him, maybe you should get out there. I can watch the kids.”

. . .

Joey flashed whatever fancy looking crap he found in the top drawer of Kaiba’s desk in the study to the airport security checkpoint. He had no idea which ones went to what at the airport, but no one had stopped him when he had driven, perhaps recklessly, very close to the tarmac. He only had to jump on fence to be on the asphalt—and it was never difficult to tell which plane belonged to his ex-husband.

No one else who parked their private jets at the Westchester airport had the same fondness for the Blue Eyes White Dragon, that was for sure.

Joey had never felt as insignificant as he did on the tarmac. Even though Kaiba was only in the jet, the distance between them made him feel like Kaiba was already airborne, and he was the size of an ant—a speck in the map, a pixel.

“Hey. I got something to say to you!” Joey shouted at the plane. He assumed Kaiba couldn’t hear him, but the body language would have to be enough—waving his arms, clothed in his bathrobe, thick fabric flapping in the chilling wind. From his peripheral vision, he could see the airport staff already streaming out to take the civilian off of the dangerous runway. 

But instead the stairway descended, and the door opened. Kaiba’s imposing silhouette cut a nerve-wracking shadow. Joey was taken back to the days when the man would hang off of helicopter ladders and yell about card games.

“Jounouchi, it is not safe for you to stand in the tarmac!” The outline yelled back.

“Well, I got something to say to you!” Joey screamed over the sounds of another airplane taking off.

Kaiba descended a few steps, but not all the way. He couldn’t be bothered to touch the same ground as Joey. Kaiba extended a hand gracefully, wordlessly gesturing for Joey to continue.

“Do you wanna stay?” Joey asked. It was a simple question, honest, and more sincerely curious that even he had expected.

“I have work, Jounouchi,” Kaiba turned around and ascended again.

“What do you want?!” Joey yelled at his back.

Kaiba spun back, with a shocking amount of frustration pulling at his face.

“What do _you_ want?” Kaiba shouted down with absolute vitriol. 

What _did_ Joey want? He wanted him to change, he’d said that in the past, and Kaiba had answered that he couldn’t.

And then he _did_.

Joey just wanted that—what Kaiba had already become. All he had to do was say that, right? _Stay._ That’s what he wanted. And, _keep trying._ And, _I want you to want to keep trying_. 

But that would be giving in to Kaiba’s demands, right? Letting him win, letting him off the hook. All the shitty days, all the half-assed affection, all the last priority moves. There was a little block there, a clot in the artery between his feelings and a reality that he could accept. Kaiba never apologized, so he didn’t deserve forgiveness, did he? Had Kaiba ever even figured out what he had done wrong?

The guards were closing in. 

“I want you to apologize.”

If Kaiba could say he was sorry, Joey could say that he wanted him to stay. To come back for real.

Kaiba looked at him, and all the anger that had made it to his face evaporated. It melted away to his old mask—a casual disdain for everyone else in the world.

“I will not apologize for who I am. You should know better than that. Good bye, Jounouchi.” He disappeared from Joey’s vision and returned to the cockpit.

Joey could have taken the five security guards, in his heyday. But he found himself passively wandering back into the airport under their glares. 

That wasn’t quite not what he wanted an apology for. He didn’t need Kaiba to apologize for being a mess of a man, an impatient man, at times uncaring, frequently distant and harsh. He just wanted Kaiba to apologize for the way he had made Joey feel, and for leaving without even trying. For leaving _again_. For being so criminally unwilling to admit his own happiness, capitulate to his own fulfillment.

Really, Joey didn’t want much. He just wanted enough that he could bear to drive Kaiba back home.

But, maybe Kaiba was right about himself. Maybe he really didn’t change. Not enough, maybe even not at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas y'all!   
> Thank you for your readership, your comments, your kindness. It means so much to me. Last chapter will be up within 24 hours.


	8. {{ December 26 }}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I can promise that I am not giving up on us.”

Joey had awoken either alone or to the sounds of needy children almost every morning for the last three years. At first, waking up without Seto there was a relief—he didn’t have to deal with him or any of the intensity that came with Seto Kaiba.

Eventually, he did miss him in that bleary moment. It was frustrating that the first few minutes of his morning, every morning, were dedicated to a feeling of loss.

Even that had faded away. For a while now, waking up in his own bed didn’t inspire any thoughts of Seto. Joey had returned to a state where his mornings were not tarnished by Kaiba’s absence.

But his taste of Christmas with the man—the kind one who had so graciously been a part of his family, not the cold one, who left into the snow without a second thought—was enough to leave Joey tormented. 

Waking up alone had never seemed as empty than the morning of that day after Christmas. He opened his phone screen, tapped the world clock app, and saw that it was already late in the evening in Domino. Kaiba had no doubt already landed and returned to his life, as if nothing had happened.

The entire good experience melted right off of Kaiba. Back to his old life, his old ways. Unchanged, unaffected.

It felt like there was broken glass inside Joey's chest. It was almost nauseating to feel so disconnected after everything that had happened.

But something had happened. Something had changed, Joey was sure of it. And things could be different. 

He had gone to sleep so troubled with these conflicting thoughts, but sitting in his quiet bed, watching the snow sprinkle down, he had a new sense of clarity.

When he closed his eyes, he could see their future stretch in front of him, days and weeks and years sprawling across the room.

Joey would never get rid of all of those _things_ that Kaiba had left behind. He was a sentimental bastard, and at least he knew who he was. Joey’s eyes hit the wedding photo lingering in his room. If Joey couldn’t even toss out the extra turtlenecks after three years, Joey was not optimistic he’d ever fully clean out the house and wipe all the traces of Kaiba from the home.

And goddamn it, he knew Kaiba too. 

That man wasn’t going to move on either.

So, Joey supposed, they might just keep doing _this_. Every time they exchanged the kids, would Kaiba tag along for some ill-advised tryst? Like an addiction, circling back for another self-destructive hit, knowing nothing could really change. 

Or would he avoid Joey like the plague, and instead every few years fall into some act of God that would leave them to another excruciatingly loving experience. 

How many times would his life be uprooted by falling back in love with that asshole? How many longing touches would they scatter across decades? 

Playing enemies while secretly pining for each other? Damn it, hadn’t they already gotten that out of their system?

Joey was so fucking sick of _missing him_. 

Kaiba was too stubborn, and maybe too hurt, to make the move. Joey hated the emotional responsibility that fell on his shoulders.

But, Joey wondered, had he actually laid it all on the line? He never once asked Kaiba not to return to Japan. He blocked the door, but he didn’t actually _say it_. He showed up at the airport, but he didn’t actually _say it_. 

His ex-husband had the emotional intelligence of a brick on a good day. Joey wasn’t _just as bad as Kaiba_ for not just saying it. But Joey sat in bed, the cold covers pooling around him, and considered that he could be part of the problem. 

And maybe, if he wanted them to be back together, he had to do it. If he didn’t want to live this way forever—he was in a position to change it. He wasn’t corporation stock, he wasn’t an asset, something without any control over what Kaiba did. 

So Joey got up. He made himself some coffee. It was seven in the morning, but he was sitting at the kitchen counter, dated laptop jammed open, on the speakerphone with Serenity before the hour was over.

Everyone always admired Kaiba’s force of will. A personality that could overcome every adversity, defy reality itself, control space and time. Master the global marketplace, dominate the NASDAQ, and change the fabric of society.

But Joey’s force of will was something else too. And he wasn’t going to wait for however many years it took for Kaiba to admit that he wanted to stay there, in their home, raising their children together. 

If he had to, he’d drag the bastard straight from Japan. His dumb husband was just waiting there, getting old and sad in some fancy condo.

And so he spent the entire plane ride to Domino city trying to figure out exactly what it was that he wanted to say to set his stupid, stupid man straight.

. . .

“Mokuba?” Joey hoped it was still the right phone number. The Kaiba brothers were always updating things, changing software, making their communication methods that much trickier to obtain. It was a real possibility that this phone number now only went to a stranger.

“Jounouchi! What’s up? How are you doing? The kids are growing up so freakin’ cute!”

Joey was disarmed by how warm Mokuba always was. And it laid bare just how little he’d really thought through the plan. “Um, well, I’m in Domino. I’m here to see…” Joey almost said _Kaiba._ But it was off-putting to refer to their shared last name. It never bothered him as a teen, but as an adult it sometimes hit Joey that Mokuba probably didn’t love the traces of language that made it clear that he was the secondary Kaiba when it came to these affairs. Still, Joey wasn’t sure he was allowed to call him Seto anymore.

“Ah, I see. Nii-sama just got back yesterday. Seto didn’t tell me any of the details, but…” Mokuba’s tone shifted. “Everything okay?” 

The question was stingingly sincere.

Joey sighed on the other end of the line. “Yeah, you know your brother. I mean. Look. I’m in Domino and I guess I just need to see him. It’s dumb—”

“It’s not dumb,” Mokuba interrupted, sounding more adult than Joey had ever heard. It was like he really was getting an edict from the esteemed Vice President of Kaiba Corporation.

“Yeah. Can you get me a badge or whatever to visit his office. We need to talk and…”

“I see. He can’t be allowed to dodge it, huh?” 

Joey laughed, despite himself. It was a bit mournful, but it wasn’t totally devoid of life. “Nope.”

“Yeah, I can hook you up. I’ll get the pass sent to your phone.”

Joey nodded, even though his phone was conventional, and Mokuba couldn’t see him. “Thanks. And congrats on getting married. From what I’ve heard, she sounds like a keeper.”

Joey could hear the glowing smile on the other end of the phone. “Yeah, I think so too.”

. . .

The lobby of Kaiba Corp. HQ was mostly unchanged since the last time Joey had seen it, though it looked somewhat creepy in the dark. It was lightly, tastefully, decorated for the season. Twinkle lights on some of the pillars, echoing in the dark like suspended lightening bugs.

So close to his goal, Joey stalled. He paced in the empty cavern of the lobby. Maybe he shouldn’t bother. Maybe this whole adventure was some twisted flight of fancy, brought on by watching one holiday film too many. Did he look too closely at the snowflakes trapped in Kaiba’s eyelashes and see something that wasn’t really there?

In the middle of his troubled, nervous walking, Isono appeared. Put together and just like Joey had seen him when last trading off the kids. Sunglasses on—even though it was the dead of night in the deepest part of winter. Stern and silent, Isono directed him to the elevator.

Isono never had much of a relationship with Joey. The man had watched him at most major life events outside of his house for the fifteen years preceding the divorce. Joey realized that his presence was somewhat more comfortable than all of the anonymous faces Joey had passed by in the once-familiar city.

The floor indicator increased quickly as the two men rocketed toward the top floor, where Kaiba could properly brood over the entirety of Domino.

In the stilted silence, they arrived at the top floor, and Isono put his arm out to stop the elevator doors.

“It is good you are here,” Isono said. Something about his voice sounded reflective, and it gave Joey the confidence he wished he did not need.

The city glowed in the background, pulsing like magma. Kaiba sat at his broad desk, illuminated by the blue light laptop in front of him and the ethereal glow of the city at his back. Joey was pissed that when he walked in, Kaiba didn’t bat an eye. It felt as if Kaiba had set the appointment.

Joey wondered to himself whether Mokuba had messaged him, or inadvertently triggered some alarm in procuring the pass. Even so, Kaiba was where he was supposed to be, sitting in his dark office, typing away at whatever it was he did all day.

Since the grand entrance did not have the desired effect, Joey proceeded to stomp over to Kaiba’s desk, push down the screen of the laptop, and kiss him.

 _This_ succeeded in starling Kaiba, his blue eyes wide in surprise. Almost too shocked to kiss back. _Almost_. Kaiba still reached a hand across, thumb skimming over Joey’s cheek.

“Y’know why I did that?” Joey asked, breaking the kiss.

Kaiba shook his head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “No, I—what are you doing here?”

Joey propped himself up on Kaiba’s desk, sweatpants-clad butt shifting a stack of papers.

“I kissed you because I wanted to. And I’m here because I want to be. And I didn’t buy a return ticket, Kaiba. Because I want to fly back with you.”

Kaiba opened his mouth to speak, but Joey silenced him with a hand.

“I’m gonna make it really simple for you, cause apparently this is hard for you.” Joey announced. “Here’s the situation: I broke up with you because you refused to be part of the family in the way that I needed. You were acting like a bad partner, and I did not deserve that. But… You… you proved that you could be a good partner. So here’s the deal.”

Joey walked forward, completely enveloped by Kaiba’s heated stare. “I want you. I want you to be at the house. I want to raise our kids together. I want to go to sleep in the same bed with you, I want to wake up in your arms, I want a lot of other things.”

Kaiba wisely kept his mouth shut, opting to watch Joey with soft, sad eyes. Joey wasn’t going to let it get to him.

“And I think you want that too. You were happy this week. A lot. And this is sappy but I’m gonna lay it out.”

Kaiba gestured with one hand that Joey should continue. The darkness didn’t leave much for Joey to see, but the way that the glare of the city glinted off of his eyes… it looked a little like water was pooling. Joey took that to mean that his evaluation was correct, enough—Kaiba did love to correct people.

“I don’t know how many special moments, or special people we get. And I don’t know how many days I’ll get to look over and see you. And what a mess you are and how strangely you hide that and… and you know what?!”

Kaiba opened his lips a little, but didn’t have anything to say. So Joey dismounted from the desk and continued.

“I came here, cause I’m done wasting my time. You talk so much about your precious time, how busy you are. But my time is _mine_ , and I’m sick of watching the kids grow up without you. I’m sick of not seeing the magic parts of you, and the genius and the… we fit together, damn it! We’re both fucked up, we’ve got no idea how to do any of this. But I want to figure it out with you.”

Joey realized he hadn’t been breathing as he let it out. He took a breather, trying to collect his thoughts, wiping at his own face.

“So. Yeah. I have a proposal for you. Fly with me back to New York. Let’s try again. Like, really try. You actually be part of this—like my partner. We’re too old for the on-again off-again bullshit. I don’t want to have to get over you. And honestly, I’m worried you’ll never get over me.” Joey shrugged, “You’re not really the moving on kinda guy.”

Finally, Kaiba stood up behind the desk. His shadow was so imposing, a terrifying mixture of height and darkness. “So what? You want me to be on vacation forever?”

Joey hadn’t anticipated that much vitriol in his voice. He had been pretty proud of his speech.

“No. But... you are just as free as you want to be.”

Joey wanted to run, felt the fight or flight instinct lighting up in his gut. But he was finally done retreating. Joey walked towards the silhouette.

“I’m going to ask you—just once more—do you want to do this? Not my way, and definitely _not_ your way. But some new way that we can find together.”

“I am not a man of compromises, Jounouchi.” Kaiba turned away.

“When you want something, really want something, nothing can stop you. That’s what I’m counting on.” 

“When have you known me to do anything by halves, Jounouchi?”

“The last year of our marriage.” The answer had been given almost instantaneously, but it hung in the air for a full minute. “But you’re right, I don’t think that’s really who you are. So, come back to New York. And prove it to me.”

Joey took one more step forward. He could feel Kaiba’s tense breath, they were so close. “You can be emotionally constipated on your own time. I’ll go first: I’m sorry for not being more honest and just telling you what was going on. Now it’s your turn to apologize.”

“What do you want me to apologize for?” Kaiba demanded.

“You’re the genius. Whatever you think will be enough to convince me to let you come back to the house so that we can live our lives together. The way we were meant to.”

“I don’t—” Kaiba started.

“Do not call my bluff, Kaiba. You really don’t feel sorry about any of this?” Joey waved his arms, gesturing at everything.

“… I…” Kaiba looked out at the vast city below, glowing electric with holograms and New Year’s decorations.

“You don’t have to say it. The best apology is shaping up. And I know you get it. I’ve _seen_ you get it. So please. Just… was it that bad? Just being my husband for a few days?”

“No.” Kaiba refocused, look drilling into Joey. “I regret allowing you to labor under the assumption that our relationship was not important to me. That you were not the brightest light in my life.”

Finally, achingly slow and gentle, Kaiba tilted his head down and pressed a kiss to Joey’s forehead.

“I cannot promise that it will never happen again. But I can promise that I am not giving up on us.”

Fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much to everyone who has read, commented, kudos'ed, reblogged... everything. I was so worried when I wrote this that none of it would resonate with anyone-- that it would be a joke of a fanfic, AU and soulless. I am so gratified that this wasn't the case.
> 
> I intentionally left it vague on how exactly these babies got made. Feel free to imagine surrogacy or adoption or omegaverse or whatever permutation you find most pleasing. I didn’t want it to distract from the story I wanted to tell.  
> I may write some follow up healing family pieces in the future.
> 
> Thank you again for joining me for this. Happy holidays.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I scalped the name from a Hallmark Movie. (And it was Squiddish's idea to do so).  
> Thanks to Alecto for her support on the tags and summary and also the rest of the fic lol  
> Thanks to Belles and the rest of the ygocollablove server for sprinting with me and reading my drafts of this in *September* when it was wholly unreasonable to be writing it.
> 
> And finally, the playlist for this fic: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1mJOIBBWr6UW8uwSrfAd6k?si=vcgu063JSfmfbIImx3kKhg


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